


Twisted: A Light In The Darkness

by hunter_king



Series: Supernatural - Wincest [37]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Barebacking, Demon Dean Winchester, M/M, Minor Character Death, Slash, Spoilers for Seasons 1 and 2, Swearing, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 01:52:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16693135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunter_king/pseuds/hunter_king
Summary: Four years after Sam left him to go have his normal, apple pie life, Dean heads to Stanford to pick up where they left off. The only problem is now that Sam knows he's a demon, his brother wants absolutely nothing to do with him. And Dean finds that absolutely unacceptable.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> written for the spneldritchbang in November 2018  
> Beta'd by ih8deserts  
> Art by winchesterchola ([here](https://stargazingchola.livejournal.com/9971.html))

_“Don't leave me, Sammy,” Dean begged, lips dragging over the expanse of the younger Winchester's neck as he worked his way down towards his brother's chest. “Please don't leave me?” His fingers slid up the hem of Sam's gray T-shirt, dragging the fabric with him before he stripped Sam of it completely. The kid had really filled out over the last couple of years. He had more muscle mass than even Dean at this point. It was kind of a turn on._

_A small whimper escaped Sam when Dean's lips closed over his newly exposed nipple, the younger Winchester shaking his head slightly. “D'n,” he breathed, “M'not leaving you. C'mon, you know that.” They'd been arguing about this for almost a week now, and Sam was getting tired of it. Dean had barely touched him since he found out about Sam's acceptance letter, and now that Dean was finally making a move, he was going to cheapen it by bringing_ that _up?!_

 _Pulling back, Dean's skilled fingers started working the fastenings of Sam's jeans open. “You're going to Stanford, Sam,” he reminded. “College. Trying to have some kind of_ normal _, apple pie life, like you call it. Away from hunting, and Dad, and everything else – away from_ me _.” He gripped Sam's jeans tightly in his hands, yanking the fabric down the younger man's body, Sam's boxers following quickly behind. “Don't do it. Stay with me.”_

_It wasn't that Sam was trying to leave Dean. He would never want to be somewhere without his brother. But he couldn't stay in this life. There was nothing here for him. All being a hunter offered was pain, and suffering, and death. Sam had a full ride to Stanford where he could practice law, and there was no way he was passing that up. But that didn't mean he wanted to talk about it right now. “Dean, timing,” he breathed, hips bucking into his brother's hand when Dean wrapped his fingers around Sam's hard length. “Just...we can talk about it after. Please?”_

_Although Sam begged so pretty, Dean didn't want to talk about it after. He had one goal coming into this room earlier, and that was to get Sam to talk to him about Stanford, preferably while he was distracted. “I wanna talk about it now,” he stressed, squeezing his fingers around Sam's cock on the upstroke before slamming back down to the base. Sammy had always liked it a little rough. “You like this, don't you?” he asked, thumb sliding over Sam's weeping slit, using the pre-cum leaking there to help him lube the way as he continued to jack off the younger man._

_Sam had to fight back the urge to roll his eyes when Dean asked if he liked this. He wouldn't be here rocking his hips into Dean's palm if he didn't like this. “You know I do,” Sam assured Dean, biting into his bottom lip as his head fell back, eyes squeezed tightly closed in pleasure, mouth slack as he groaned softly._

_Unable to control himself, Dean smirked before he pulled away, squeezing the base of Sam's cock just short of painfully to let the younger man know he wasn't allowed to cum until Dean said so. Taking a few steps away from Sam, Dean stripped out of his shirt, eyes locked on his brother the whole time. “You don't want this to stop, do you?” Another smirk came to his lips when Sam quickly shook his head. Slowly, Dean's fingers worked the fastenings of his own jeans, the older Winchester making a show of it as he pulled his jeans down, his erect member springing free for Sam's eyes to take in._

_As he walked towards Sam again, Dean's movements were slow – like a hunter stalking its prey. “You love it when I'm like this, don't you, Sammy?” he breathed, teasingly stroking his own hard flesh as he kept his eyes locked with Sam's. “When I get you going like this, baby?” Again, he smiled when Sam nodded, the younger man almost whimpering when Dean got close enough to touch, but kept his hands to himself. “Why would you wanna leave me when we have so much fun together, Sam?”_

_At Dean's words, Sam looked straight at Dean. “Dean, I don't want to leave you,” he assured the older Winchester. “It has nothing to do with you. I just want out of this life. I don't want to hunt, Dean. That's Dad's thing – he drug us into it without even thinking about our futures and what we want! I wanna be a lawyer, Dean. Stanford is my ticket to my dream life. You know this.”_

_He hated hearing Sam talk about how much he wanted to leave the hunting life. Dean_ lived _for this life. It was all he knew. All he_ needed _. And Sam was going to leave him over something like this? Biting into his bottom lip, Dean pressed the head of his dick against Sam's cheek, his pre-cum leaving a hot, sticky trail from Sam's cheek to the corner of his mouth. His fingers of his free hand carded through Sam's shaggy hair, forcing the younger man's head back so he could lock his eyes with Sam once more. “But what about me, little brother?” he asked, barely containing his anger. “If you leave for school, that means you leave me.”_

_“It doesn't have to be that way, Dean,” Sam assured his brother again, groaning in a mixture of pain and pleasure at the rough treatment Dean was giving him. “You can come with me. You don't have to be in this life either. Come to school with me. We can get an apartment close to campus. We can have each other, Dean. That's all we need. We don't have to hunt.”_

_The last thing Dean wanted was to leave this life. “And what, Sammy?” he scoffed, releasing the hold he had on Sam's hair. “Have a white picket fence and a couple of dogs runnin' around?” He could see that Sam was thinking it over in his head, which had him almost gagging. “Sorry baby,” he breathed, crawling onto the bed with Sam as he pushed the younger man so that he was lying on his back on the mattress. Dean moved to straddle Sam's chest, one hand reaching for Sam's own and guiding it to his achingly hard cock. “But big brother doesn't fit into your little apple pie life.”_

_Hearing the hatred in Dean's voice about his life choices had Sam almost in tears. He didn't understand what was so wrong with being normal. There were plenty of hunters in the world – let them handle all of the big bad! This life had stolen Sam's childhood from him, and he wasn't about to let it steal his future, too. He almost pulled his hand away when Dean wrapped it around his member, but Sam didn't. He'd never turned down the opportunity to touch Dean before, and he wasn't about to now. Especially since with the way this conversation was going, this was shaping up to be the last night Sam would be spending with his brother for a while._

_Dean groaned in pleasure as Sam worked his cock even when Dean allowed his hand to fall away. Sam knew how Dean liked it – he never disappointed. “What's your obsession with normalcy, Sam?” Dean breathed, his hands roaming over his brother's chest as he rocked his hips into Sam's hand._ ”Nothing _about our lives are normal right now. How do you know normal will be all it's cracked up to be? Or that the monsters, and the demons, and the ghosts will even leave you alone? They won't care that you're out of the life, Sammy.”_

 _Although Dean made a good point, Sam had to have faith. He had to believe that there was something better out there than the life he was raised in. “Because I know it will be, Dean,” he breathed, hand working his brother faster as he watched Dean's face. “You can't tell me that you like the way we were raised, Dean. Can't tell me that if you had the chance to be normal, you wouldn't take it. Come on, Dean – you wanna be with me, don't you? This is your chance, D. Come with me. Please? Come with me? Don't leave_ me _.”_

_When Sam worked him harder, Dean growled, fingers digging into the pillow behind Sam's head as heat pooled low in his belly. His eyes were locked on Sam's body when he came, hot ropes of his release coating Sam's chest and splashing onto his chin. Damn, he would never get over how hot his little brother had grown up to be. Slapping Sam's hand off his overly sensitive flesh, Dean rubbed his spunk into Sam's skin, biting his lip to stifle a moan as he watched the evidence of his orgasm disappear into Sam's sun-kissed skin._

_Pulling back, Dean crushed lips against Sam's, tongue mapping out the familiar wet cavern. Once the kiss was broken, Dean tilted his head, frowning down at his little brother. “You don't want me to come with you,” he assured Sam with a shake of his head. “You want to be out of this life – to be_ normal _.” He spat the word like it was poison in his mouth before he scoffed, shaking his head once more. “There's_ nothing _normal about me, Sam. Or you. And there sure as hell isn't anything normal about fucking your brother.”_

_With that, Dean climbed completely off Sam, not caring that he hadn't allowed Sam to cum, or that his words had hurt Sam deeply. Instead, Dean gathered up his clothes and headed to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. The shower water came on moments later, Dean stepping under the scalding hot spray as he allowed the water to cascade over his achy muscles. He needed the distraction so he couldn't feel the pain of Sam leaving him anymore. And yes, while it was petty, if he used all of the hot water, then Sam wouldn't be able to take one of his excessively long showers, either._

_At this point, Sam didn't even care that Dean had left him hanging. After hearing his brother's words, Sam didn't even want Dean to take care of him. Quickly, Sam pulled his clothes back on, fighting the tears that were trying to slide down his cheeks. He wouldn't give Dean the satisfaction of seeing him cry. He wouldn't let Dean know that his words had cut like a knife. Once he was dressed, Sam threw his remaining belongings that hadn't already been packed into his duffel bag, hearing the shower finally shutting off._

_By the time Dean was out of the bathroom, Sam was already gone._


	2. Chapter 2

The woman in the bed beside him shifted, pulling Sam slightly out of his sleep. He was more than happy to fall back into his peaceful slumber, the young Winchester not having even opened his eyes. However, when he heard a noise outside the room that sounded alarmingly like the window being opened, Sam's eyes snapped open. Quietly, Sam pushed himself out of the bed, making sure not to alarm his lover before he headed into the living area. Sure enough, the window that he knew for a fact had been closed when he went to bed was now hanging wide open.

Hearing footsteps, Sam moved into action. He could see the figure of a man walking past the strings of beads at the far end of the hall, so he moved towards another part of the apartment and waited for his opening. As soon as the intruder entered the room, Sam lunged forward and grabbed him at the shoulder. 

His hand got knocked away. The intruder countered with a strike to his head. Sam ducked. He shifted his weight to get a good punch in but the other man grabbed his hand, swung around and shoved his body into Sam's. Sam set out to kick him. The intruder blocked him again before pushing Sam backwards. Sam stumbled into the living room where he finally caught a glimpse of the intruder, causing his breath to hitch in his throat. _No, it couldn't be. There was no way. His mind was playing tricks on him._

An elbow to the face quickly pulled him from his thoughts, Sam groaning in disapproval. He kicked his foot towards the man's head again, getting angrier by the second when his attack was once again dodged. Luckily, he managed to block the blow aimed at his head. He didn't manage to block the shove that followed. He landed on his back, his air knocked out of his lungs. The attacker had him pinned to the floor now. One hand at Sam's neck, and the other wrapped tightly around Sam's wrist.

“Whoa, easy, tiger,” the man smiled warmly down at Sam. It seemed like he hadn't seen the younger man in ages. He'd missed him more than he liked to admit. It was nice to know that Sam hadn't forgotten his training, though.

His breaths were panting out of him as he stared up into the face of his attacker. There was no denying it now. His mind wasn't playing tricks on him. “Dean?” he squawked, knowing that the fight wasn't the only thing leaving him breathless at this moment. When his brother laughed, the sound instantly shot to Sam's dick, his body responding to Dean already. “You scared the crap out of me!”

Still keeping his grip on Sam, Dean teased, “That's 'cause you're out of practice.” Of course, it was a lie. Sam had done pretty well for being gone for so long. But he had to take an opportunity to make fun of Sam where he could get it. After all, what were big brothers for? He gasped in shock when Sam grabbed his hand and yanked, slamming his heal into Dean's back and switching their positions so Dean was now pinned to the ground. “Or not.” Tapping Sam's hand twice, Dean ordered, “Get off me.”

Satisfied that Sam showed his brother _exactly_ how out of practice he was, Sam rolled to his feet, pulling Dean up after him. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, shifting on his feet as he tried to hide his growing hard-on in the presence of his brother.

Smiling, Dean put his hands on Sam's shoulders, giving him a gentle shake. “Well, I was looking for a beer,” he joked, releasing Sam when he didn't get the reaction he was looking for. It was almost as if Sam wasn't happy to see him. But Dean couldn't miss the bulge being barely hidden under Sam's sleep pants. He missed him, too.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sam asked, this time more slowly, making sure to enunciate each word a little better. The last time he'd seen Dean, they hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms. Hell, he hadn't even _spoken_ to Dean in nearly two years. And now Dean was going to come back here and act like everything was fine between the two of them? Typical.

It didn't take a genius to see that Sam was upset. The bitch face alone that he was getting was enough to clue Dean in, let alone the tone in Sam's voice. “Okay,” he frowned. “All right. We gotta talk.” His eyes darted around the living room to avoid Sam's reaction. There were better ways to talk then show up and start throwing punches.

If that was the best Dean could do, Sam knew this wasn't going to take long. “Uh, the phone?” he asked, glaring at Dean. Just because he was here in person didn't mean that Sam was going to forget what happened and go back to how it had been before. He'd moved on. He was with Jessica now. Living his _apple pie_ life, as Dean liked to call it. And he didn't need his brother coming in here and messing things up for him.

Yeah right, the phone. Like that was even an option. “If I'd'a called, would you have picked up?” Dean asked, his tone accusatory as he searched his brother's face for answers.

Before Sam had a chance to answer Dean's question, the light came on, drawing the brothers' attention to the new arrival in the room. “Sam?” she asked, a small frown on her lips as she stared from her boyfriend to the other man in the room and then back. 

Sam's cheeks flushed slightly when he saw Jessica standing in the doorway, Sam once again shifting in an attempt to hide his hard-on. “Jess. Hey,” he breathed. Turning his attention to Dean, who seemed like he was standing even closer than he had been before, Sam frowned. “Dean, this is my _girlfriend_ , Jessica.”

Oblivious to the look of hatred on Dean's face, Jessica asked, “Wait, your brother Dean?” On the rare occasions she got Sam to talk about his family, Dean had been a subject once or twice. But she'd never had the pleasure of meeting him. Until now.

A deep frown came to Dean's lips when Jessica addressed him. He had a snide comment on the tip of his tongue, but he left it be. If Sam's body language was any indication, Sam was already in a pissy mood, so Dean didn't want to make it worse. “Yeah, hi,” he greeted. “I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business.” Belatedly, Dean added, “But, uh, nice meeting you.”

Now, it was Sam's turn to frown. “No,” he protested, breaking away from Dean and moving to stand beside Jessica. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling the woman closer to him. “No, whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her.”

When Sam wrapped his arm around the girl, Dean felt hot anger shoot through his body. Sam's arms weren't supposed to be wrapped around anyone other than him. Sam's _hands_ weren't supposed to be on anyone other than him! Squaring his shoulders, Dean looked at the pair head on. “Okay. Um, Dad hasn't been home in a few days.”

After two years, Dean broke his silence for their father? Again, it was so typical of Dean. “So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift,” Sam answered, brushing it off like it was nothing. “He'll stumble back in sooner or later.”

It was just like Sam to make light of the situation when it came to their father. Those two never did see eye-to-eye on much of anything. And when Sam said he was leaving for Stanford, John had practically disowned him. Ducking his head, Dean smiled softly, knowing there was only one way to get his brother away from this bitch's hip. Looking back up and locking eyes with Sam, Dean repeated, “Dad's on a _hunting_ trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days.”

Hearing Dean's words, Sam didn't flinch as he tried to process everything. He knew that Jessica was right beside him, looking up at him with clear confusion, so he swallowed, eyes never leaving Dean's. “Jess, excuse us,” he finally answered. “We have to go outside.”

**~~**

Once Sam had changed into jeans and a hoodie, he followed his brother down the stairs. The whole time he tried to process everything that was going on right now. “I mean, come on,” he griped. “You can't just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you.” Of course, he knew that this was Dean, and that's exactly what he was expecting him to do. The good little soldier trying to find his drill instructor. 

This was shaping up to be a lot more difficult than Dean had originally thought. Then again, this was _Sam_ , and that kid never made anything easy. “You're not hearing me, Sammy,” he argued. “Dad's _missing_. I need you to help me find him.”

“You remember the poltergeist in Amherst?” Sam asked, continuing to follow Dean all the way down the stairs. “Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He's always missing, and he's always fine.”

While Sam had a point, Dean knew one thing for sure – John Winchester was definitely _not_ fine. Almost reaching the bottom of the stairs, Dean stopped and turned towards his brother just as Sam stopped in his tracks as well. “Not for this long,” he reminded. “Now are you gonna come with me or not?”

 _Yes, Dean, but only if you apologize for being a dick._ That's what Sam wanted to say. But he didn't. “I'm not,” he answered instead.

Anger and hurt mixed inside of Dean when Sam assured him he wasn't going to come with him. Really, Sam was going to turn him down and choose to stay here with his little whore? That wasn't acceptable. “Why not?” he demanded, glaring at the younger Winchester.

The real answer was that Dean hurt his feelings, and Sam wasn't ready to forgive him yet. But he wasn't about to give Dean that answer. That would open up a whole new can of worms, and Sam wasn't going to go there. “I swore I was done hunting,” Sam explained instead. “For good.”

Good old Sammy, still wanting to live this lie he created. Dean could appreciate that. “Come on,” he scoffed, not willing to take no for an answer. “It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad.” Again, Dean started down the stairs, a small smirk on his lips when he heard Sam following behind him. Sam always was good at following him around like a little puppy dog.

Sam couldn't believe what he heard. Not that bad?! Where had Dean been for the last twenty two years?! “Yeah?” he asked, not willing to let Dean walk away from him after that statement. “When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45.”

Stopping at the door, Dean frowned in confusion. “Well, what was he supposed to do?” he asked, not understanding what the big deal was. John had given Dean a gun when he was five years old. And John had even spent countless hours one afternoon teaching Dean how to use it, too.

Sometimes, talking to Dean about how they were raised – how _wrong_ and _fucked up_ it had been – was like talking to a brick wall. “I was nine years old!” he snarled. “He was supposed to say, don't be afraid of the dark.”

“Don't be afraid of the dark?” Dean asked, face scrunching up in disgust. “Are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark. You know what's out there.” _Don't be afraid of the dark_. Was Sam serious right now?!

Unable to suppress the sigh of frustration, Sam continued, “Yeah, I know, but still. The way we grew up, after Mom was killed, and Dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her.” He watched as Dean glanced outside, wondering what was so damn exciting out there. “But we still haven't found the damn thing. So we kill everything we _can_ find.”

Not seeing the problem, Dean just stared blankly at Sam for a minute as they reached the basement. “We save a lot of people doing it, too,” he reminded Sam, figuring that was something his brother would be happy about. With that stink of humanity covering up the scent of the _pure_ demon blood running through Sam's veins, Dean figured his brother wanted to save all the petty, useless humans he possibly could.

It was obvious to Sam that he wasn't getting through to Dean. Not that he was surprised. Every time Sam tried to explain why he wanted to be normal, Dean just ignored him. “Do you think Mom would have wanted this for us?” he asked. He knew that he was taking a risk talking about Mary, but he needed Dean to understand why he wasn't going.

As a matter of fact, Dean knew that this was the _exact opposite_ of what Mary Winchester had wanted for her boys. But she wasn't here anymore, so her opinion didn't matter. Rolling his eyes, Dean threw the door open, climbing up the short flight of stairs leading from the door to the parking lot, Sam close on his heels.

Dean was shutting him out now. But Sam wasn't finished. He _needed_ to get through to his brother. “The weapon training, and the melting silver into bullets?” he continued, just spouting off whatever came off the top of his head. “Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors.”

Honestly, Dean wasn't listening to Sam bitch about how they were raised anymore. He'd come here with one job – get Sammy back – and he wasn't leaving without completing that job. “So what are you gonna do?” he asked finally, making his way to his beloved '67 Chevy Impala. “You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it?”

“No,” Sam answered, a pang of hurt shooting through him. Dean had made it _very_ clear the last time they were together that Sam was anything _but_ normal. “Not normal. Safe.”

This wasn't safe. There were still things in the world that were after Sam, even if he was ignoring them. Dean knew what went bump in the night, and he knew that at least seventy percent of it was after Sam Winchester. If Sam wanted safe, then he needed to be with Dean. “And that's why you ran away,” he stated, barely holding back the urge to roll his eyes.

 _I ran away because you made me feel two feet tall._ “I was just going to college,” Sam argued. “It was Dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing.” He'd made a good life for himself here. He was doing really well in school, and he had an interview on Monday – if he played his cards right, he'd have a full ride next year. Not to mention that he had an incredibly attractive woman who wanted to be with him. Who _supported_ him with everything he was doing. Unlike Dean.

What Sam apparently didn't get was that in doing what John Winchester had suggested, he was staying away from Dean. And Dean needed him. “Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble right now,” Dean assured Sam, holding back the smile that was trying to break through. Oh, he was in trouble, all right. “If he's not dead already. I can feel it.” When Sam just stared at him without saying a word, Dean added, “I can't do this alone.”

The idea that Dean couldn't finish a hunt on his own was practically laughable. Sam had seen him in action more than once – he was arguably better than their father. “Yes, you can,” he assured Dean, watching as his brother turned his attention to the ground, staring at anything but Sam.

While Dean knew it would have been easy to go on this wild goose chase alone, he wasn't leaving here without his brother. Sam had been playing house with these people he'd friended here for too long. It was time for him to come back home. “Yeah, well, I don't want to,” he admitted, keeping his gaze away from his brother as he continued to hunch his shoulders

Honestly, Sam didn't want Dean to leave. He'd missed him so much. And even if his brother being here was going to cause this perfect, safe, life that he'd created here to shatter, Sam was willing to let it break. “What was he hunting?” he asked, heat shooting through his body when Dean's eyes landed on his once more.

**~~**

This was a bad idea. Sam knew that when he signed up for it. Now, here he was, inside the Impala staring in the rear view mirror at the ghost of one Constance Welch – a woman in white. According to Dean, John had left Jericho, so this had been nothing but a waste of time. And Sam was trapped by the thing they were hunting with no weapons, and no exits in sight.

“Take me home,” Constance frowned in the back seat, eyes locked with Sam's. When he made no move to do as he was told, she repeated herself, a little more forcefully this time, only to be answered by Sam's defiant _no_. She glared at the young hunter moments before the doors locked themselves. As Sam desperately tried to open the doors, the gas pedal pressed down and the car began to drive itself. Sam turned his attention to the steering wheel, trying to maneuver the car in any way, but Constance was controlling that, too. Moving back to the doors, Sam felt fear blossoming in his chest, Constance flickering in the back seat.

The car pulled up in front of Constance's house and stopped. The engine shut off as soon as the car halted, the lights soon following. “Don't do this,” Sam ordered, trying to catch Constance's eyes in the rear view mirror. But her eyes were on her home before she flickered once more.

“I can never go home,” Constance explained sadly, her gaze never leaving the abandoned house in front of them.

Eyes ticking back towards the house, Sam finally realized what she meant. “You're scared to go home,” he breathed, returning his gaze to the mirror. But Constance was gone. Looking around the car, Sam realized that Constance was now in the seat next to him. Before he knew what was happening, she climbed into his lap, shoving him back hard enough to recline the seat. Instinct had Sam struggling against the spirit.

Sam couldn't help but groan in displeasure as Constance ground against him, begging him to hold her because she was cold. Being molested by a ghost wasn't exactly his idea of a good time. But he wasn't scared – he didn't match this spirit's type of man. “You can't kill me,” he assured her, feeling very brave all of a sudden. “I'm not unfaithful. I've never been!”

A small, knowing smile came to the spirit's lips when Sam spoke. “I know when you're with her, all you're thinking about is _him_ ,” she argued with the young Winchester. Picking up her ministrations once more, she begged, “Just hold me.” Her fingers gripped Sam's chin roughly as she turned his head so she could crush their lips together, ignoring Sam's struggles under her.

As Constance kissed him, Sam focused on getting the hell out of this situation he was in. He felt sick knowing that this spirit knew his darkest secret, and she could indeed kill him for it – he did match her MO, after all. His fingers grazed against the keys, but he couldn't get a good grip on them. Almost as if she knew what he was doing, Constance pulled back, a hideous form flashing behind her face before she vanished. Unfortunately, she didn't stay gone long.

Pain flared through Sam's entire body, ripping a cry from his throat as he yanked his hoodie open. There were five holes burned through the fabric of his T-shirt, matching Constance's fingers. She flickered in front of him, her hand reaching into his chest. Suddenly, a gunshot went off, shattering the window and startling Constance. More gunshots went off as Dean approached, firing at her until she vanished once more. Again, she didn't stay gone long. But Dean fired off more shots, scaring her off for a second time.

While Dean was shooting at Constance, keeping her distracted, Sam finally managed to get the keys in his fingers, starting up the car. “I'm taking you home,” he explained to the ghost, wasting no time as he drove forward, smashing through the side of the house.

“Sam!” Dean called after his brother, fighting his way through the wreckage to the passenger side of the car. “Sam! You okay?” When his brother responded, Dean sighed in relief. “Can you move?” He reached through the window to grip Sam's hand and help him out of the car. “There you go.”

Once Sam was safely out of the car, Dean closed the door moments before they were face-to-face with an angry looking Constance. She tossed the photo she'd been holding down, a heavy-looking cupboard scooting towards the Winchesters, pinning them against the car. The lights flickered as Constance made her way towards Sam and Dean, standing at the bottom of the stairs. 

Before she had a chance to retaliate, water began pouring down the steps. Turning towards the staircase, Constance looked up to the top of the stairs. Sam and Dean followed her gaze and saw a boy and a girl standing there. Their hands locked with one another as they said in unison, “You've come home to us, Mommy.”

Suddenly, the children appeared behind Constance, embracing her tightly. A loud scream ripped from Constance as her image flickered. In a surge of energy, still screaming, Constance and her children melted into a puddle in the floor. 

As soon as she melted, Sam and Dean shoved the bureau over and went to look at the spot where Constance and her children vanished. “So this is where she drowned her kids,” Dean stated the obvious, head turning towards his brother.

Nodding, Sam answered, “That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them.” Sam was pretty proud of himself for coming up with the idea to _force_ her into this house again, if he was being honest with himself. Which at the moment, he was.

Dean couldn't help the grin that came to his lips. Damn, his brother was sexy when he used that gigantor brain of his. “You found her weak spot,” he complimented. “Nice work, Sammy.” Slapping Sam on the chest where he'd been injured, Dean walked away, inspecting his car for any injuries.

The groan that escaped Sam's lips quickly turned into a laugh. “Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you,” Sam teased. “What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?” Not that Sam wasn't appreciative. After all, Dean had made it possible for Sam to get the car in here with that move.

“Hey,” Dean started, glaring at Sam. “Saved your ass.” Again, he turned his attention to the Impala, leaning over to look at her underside. “I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car?” Turning, Dean locked eyes with Sam. “I'll kill you.” His words dragged another whole-hearted laugh out of Sam. How Dean had missed that sound.

**~~**

They made it back to Sam's apartment faster than Sam would have liked. Dean was still wearing that sour puss he'd plastered on his face when Sam reminded him that he needed to be back here for his interview. Sam hated that he'd put that look there. Sighing, he unfolded his large frame from the car, leaning over to look at his brother through the window. “Call me if you find him?” he asked, frowning when Dean merely nodded in answer. “And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?”

 _Maybe Sam just shouldn't be leaving in the first place._ “Yeah, all right,” Dean answered, still not turning to look at his brother. However, when Sam pat the car door twice and turned away, Dean quickly leaned towards the passenger door, one arm going over the back of the bench. “Sam?” His brother turned back to look at him. “You know, we made a hell of a team back there.”

Unbidden, a smile came to Sam's lips at the compliment. He and Dean had _always_ made a good team. “Yeah,” he agreed, wanting nothing more than to climb through that car window and plant one on his brother. But he didn't. He was with Jessica. His and Dean's relationship was over.

Once his brother had driven off, Sam let himself into his apartment. Everything was dark and quiet. “Jess?” Sam called out, closing the door behind himself. “You home?” He noticed a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the table with a note that read _Missed you! Love you!_ in Jessica's handwriting. Smiling, Sam picked up a cookie and stuffed it into his mouth, sneaking into the bedroom. 

He could hear the water running in the other room, leading Sam to believe that his girlfriend was taking a shower. Sighing, Sam plopped onto the bed, closing his eyes as he flopped down onto his back. Something dripped onto Sam's forehead almost as soon as he lied back, then again, causing him to flinch as he opened his eyes. The sight he was met with caused him to gasp in horror, the young Winchester pushing himself into a semi-seated position.

There, pinned to the ceiling was his girlfriend, staring down at him while blood dripped from her belly. “No!” Sam yelled, unable to believe what was happening right before his eyes. Right then, Jessica burst into flames, the fire spreading across the ceiling.

Dean kicked the front door of Sam's apartment open, hurrying inside as soon as it wasn't blocking his entrance anymore. “Sam!” he called out, heading towards the bedroom where he could hear Sam screaming.

“Jess!” Sam screamed, raising one arm to shield his face from the heat of the fire that was spreading through their bedroom.

Not paying attention to the scene around him, Dean moved towards Sam. “Sam!” he called, gripping his brother's arms and looking over the younger man. “Sam!” He couldn't see any injuries, so he figured that his brother was physically okay. He then turned his attention towards the ceiling, realizing that Sam was staring at something there. _Fuck. Azazel had promised that he wouldn't do anything to interfere._

His brother's hands grabbed at him, pushing him out of the room. “No!” Sam screamed, fighting against his brother as he pushed him away from Jessica. He needed to do something to help her. “No!” His attempts to fight off Dean were futile, his brother stronger than he was at this moment. “Jess! Jess! No!”

Just as Dean got him out of the room, flames engulfed the apartment, Dean not sticking around so they could perish in the fire along with Jessica Moore.

**~~**

There was a fire truck parked outside of the building, fire fighters and police officers trying their best to keep back gawkers. Sam loaded the shotgun he was holding, trying to forget what he'd just witnessed. He could feel his brother's eyes on him, but the last thing Sam wanted to do was talk about his feelings right now – especially with Dean. Looking up finally, Sam sighed, nodding before he tossed the shotgun into the open trunk. “We got work to do,” he told Dean with a newly found conviction, slamming the trunk closed.

Without another word, Sam headed to the passenger side door, yanking it open and folding himself into the seat. The sooner they got away from this place, the better he would feel. That yellow eyed demon was behind this – Jessica had died in the _exact_ same fashion as his mother. Sam was going to get the revenge he deserved on this thing even if it killed him.

Sighing, Dean watched as his brother brooded away from him. It was hard for him to decide how he felt about their current situation. On the one hand, he was glad that Jessica was gone. However, on the other hand, Azazel was supposed to let Dean get Sam away from here without getting involved. Azazel had probably just made Dean's job ten times harder for him, in all honesty. If Sam hadn't hated demons before, he _definitely_ did now. Dean's eyes bled to black in his anger.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean was getting really tired of keeping up the rouse that they were searching for John Winchester. Sam had him running around all over Hell's creation, and Dean was finding it harder and harder to find jobs to keep his brother distracted. And in the few months that Sam had been back with him, Dean hadn't touched him. Not _once_. Hell, Sam barely even looked at him since Jessica's death. It was killing him. He wanted Sam writhing underneath him in the worst way. Without it, Dean was going to lose his damn mind.

“Sammy!” he called, pushing himself off the bed and moving towards the closed bathroom door. “What are you doing in there? It's been almost an hour!” Almost as soon as they'd settled into their motel room, Sam had locked himself in that damn bathroom. Dean didn't like it. And he sure as hell wasn't going to let Sam spend all day in there.

Hearing Dean shouting for him, Sam jumped slightly. His head hurt and he didn't need to deal with this right now. He needed to get out of here – clear his head. That Moseley woman had given Sam a lot to think about before they left Lawrence. Now, he was just trying to sort through everything, and Dean was making it very hard to do so. “I'll be out in a minute!” Sam assured his brother, rolling his eyes when Dean rapped on the door. Damn, he just needed a fucking _minute_!

Finally, Sam pushed himself away from the counter, taking a deep breath before he exited the bathroom. Dean was on his bed, eyes following Sam's every movement as the younger Winchester grabbed his jacket. “I need to leave for a little while,” Sam explained. He didn't need to alert Dean just yet. 

A deep frown came to Dean's lips when Sam told him he was leaving. “Yeah?” he asked, itching for a fight. “Where are you gonna go, Sam? You don't have a car. And my baby isn't leaving this parking lot.” He'd noticed the change in Sam almost immediately when his brother had folded himself into the Impala earlier. That damn psychic bitch must have opened her mouth, and Sam was planning on bolting now.

Anger welled up inside Sam. “I'm going for a _walk_ , Dean!” he corrected the older man. “So, I don't need your precious baby.” Just looking at Dean right now was making Sam somewhat queasy. “I'm just grabbing some air. It's been a rough couple of days – you know that.” Not only did Sam have to deal with the fact that he was having _visions_ , or whatever you wanted to call them, but now he had to deal with the information that his brother was possibly _not_ Dean. Missouri had mentioned that there was something _off_ about his brother. And while Sam didn't know exactly what she meant, he knew that it couldn't be good.

Still itching for that fight, Dean pushed himself off the bed, stalking towards Sam. “A walk?” he asked, eyes never leaving Sam's. “In case you haven't noticed, Sammy, it's dark outside.” _Going for a walk, his ass._ “There are things out there in the dark that wanna hurt you, little brother. And as you said, it's been a rough couple of days. Probably best for you to stay here with me. Where you're safe.”

Safe – Sam almost laughed out loud at the idea. If Missouri was right, Sam was probably more at risk with Dean than he was if he had been sitting in the car with Constance Welch! “I want to get some air,” Sam argued. “I'm a grown man. I can handle myself, Dean.”

When Sam went to pull his jacket on, Dean grabbed it from his hands, tossing it on the bed away from his brother. “I said _no_ , Sam,” he growled. “You're staying here with me.” His little brother's defiance had his dick twitching in his jeans. Biting into his bottom lip, Dean barely suppressed the moan that wanted to escape him as his eyes raked over Sam's body. “Do you remember what it was like before you left for college, Sammy?”

The change in subject had Sam frowning in confusion. No, they weren't going to talk about this right now. Sam needed to get out of here. He didn't need his brother to take him on a trip down memory lane. “Dean, I don't wanna talk about that,” he assured his brother, moving towards his bed and retrieving the jacket Dean had taken from him. Sam wasn't going to let Dean _force_ him to stay here.

“Why not?” Dean asked, eyes locked on the younger Winchester as he moved to retrieve his coat once more. “You can't tell me that you don't think about it. All those nights we were wrapped around each other...nothing separating us.” His tongue dragged over his lips as he stared at Sam's perky ass in those jeans. He couldn't control it as his eyes bled to black thinking about Sam under him, his dick growing hard. 

Without thinking, Dean closed the distance between the two of them, arms wrapping around Sam's narrow waist as he sucked on the exposed flesh of Sam's neck where his T-shirt didn't reach. “C'mon Sammy,” he breathed against his brother's skin. “Can't tell me you don't remember how good we were. How good it felt.” His hand slid down Sam's belly to grip his brother's erection through his jeans, moaning in approval. “Mmmm...I knew it, little brother. Don't fight this. Let me back inside you, Sammy, please?”

Sam quickly turned on Dean when he cupped his member, shoving the older man away from him. “Don't!” he ordered. He hated himself for responding to Dean's touches. “I said I don't want to talk about it,” he reminded. “And I sure as hell don't want you coming over here molesting me, okay?!” After hearing Missouri's warning, Sam didn't want Dean touching him. Not until he figured everything out. He could see the hurt on Dean's face before it was quickly replaced with anger. Sam figured he owed Dean at least some kind of explanation – even if it wasn't the whole truth. “I can't, Dean. Not after everything that happened with Jess. I just...can't.”

Even dead, the bitch was proving to be a thorn in Dean's side. “Jess is dead, Sam,” he reminded, not caring that he was being harsh. It was about time Sam faced the truth and moved on. It was time for Sam to come back to where he belonged – in Dean's bed. “Don't you think she'd want you to be happy? Not _pining_ after her?” Again, he stalked towards Sam. “I'm right here, Sammy,” he breathed, eyes locked on his brother's once more. “She can't give you what you need anymore. She _never_ could. Not what you _really_ need. But _I_ can. I _have_ , Sammy.”

With each word that left Dean's mouth, Sam's anger grew. How dare he talk about Jessica like that! He hadn't even _known_ her! The _one_ time they'd met, he didn't even speak to her hardly! Dean had only been worried about getting Sam out of that apartment, and on the road with him. A part of Sam still blamed his brother for Jessica's death. If he had been there when the demon attacked, Sam may have been able to stop it. But he hadn't been – he'd been off hunting with Dean. “Don't talk about her, Dean!” Sam screamed, tears springing to his eyes. “You don't know _anything_ about Jessica! And you sure as hell don't know anything about our relationship! So don't stand there and _pretend_ to know what I need! Because you haven't in the last four years, Dean!”

Again, Dean closed the distance between himself and Sam, gripping his brother by the shirt and pulling him up against his body. “Because you won't _let_ me!” he argued. “You flinch away from me when you get too close. You barely look at me. You shut me out a long time ago, Sammy. And I'm ready for you to let me back in. I miss you. I _need_ you, Sammy.”

“Christo,” Sam breathed, biting into his bottom lip to stifle the moan that escaped him from being pressed so tightly against Dean's body. It was getting harder for Sam to resist Dean. He had to know what Missouri meant before he gave in to his urges to take Dean up on his offer.

That one little word shattered _everything_. A single tear slipped down his cheek as his hazel orbs locked on deep onyx. Without another thought, Sam shoved away from Dean, moving towards his bag where he kept his weapons. “You're not my brother,” he accused, grabbing the holy water from his duffel and unscrewing the cap. “How long have you been in him?”

A small smile came to Dean's lips. “What do you mean, Sammy?” he asked, eyes bleeding back to jade now that Sam wasn't spouting out that holy garbage. “I'm not possessed.” Moving towards Sam, he continued, “Put that down. You're only going to get yourself hurt, Sammy. Let's talk about this.”

Sam waited until Dean got close enough and then flung the holy water over Dean's face and upper body. No reaction. Now, Sam was confused. Before he could think about it too much, he was thrown against the wall, pinned there by an invisible force. “Yeah,” he groaned, letting out a breathy chuckle. “You're not possessed.”

Now that he had Sam pinned against the wall, he figured this would give them some time to talk. Clearly, they had a lot to talk about now. “I'm not possessed, Sammy,” he assured his brother once more. “This is _all me_ in here. Azazel was nice enough to let me climb back into my meat suit when I came topside again.”

Frowning, Sam glared at his brother. “Wh-What are you talking about?” he asked. “I've known you for years, Dean. I've seen you touch iron. And I've seen you _ingest_ holy water. _My brother_ is not a demon! I know him better than anyone. I would have known if my own brother was a demon. I know you're possessing him!” Sam struggled furiously against Dean's hold over him. If he could just get off this fricking wall!

It was true – he'd touched iron, and he'd drank holy water like it was his saving grace. And to this day, he didn't know why he was immune to it. Maybe it had something to do with Azazel letting him back into his own body? “I wasn't always like this,” he explained. “It happened about six years ago.”

Moving closer to Sam, Dean chuckled at the memory. “They jumped me outside of one of those damn motels we were staying in. Before I knew it, I woke up in Hell, on a rack.” Dean now stood in front of Sam, who stopped struggling against his hold. Dean looked at Sam, but he wasn't really there. “I don't really know how they managed it. Alastair never told me. He wasn't much of a talker. He liked to let his knives and _toys_ do the talking for him.”

Demons lied – Sam knew this. _Dean_ had been the one to teach Sam that. “You're lying,” he assured the thing wearing his brother's face. “I was with you the night I left for college. I was with you _every_ night before it, too. I would have known if you were a demon, Dean!”

“Not always, Sammy.” Dean looked away again, staring at something on the wall behind Sam. “Remember your sophomore year? You were busy with your teenage angst; Dad was busy drinking, or hunting.” Sam shook his head in disbelief but stayed quiet, so Dean continued his story.

“There was a demon possessing me while I was in the pit,” he explained. “Azazel couldn't let you and John know that I wasn't around. He had to cover his tracks.” Frowning, he remembered, “I spent one hundred and twenty years in Hell. Well, Hell years. Topside, I was only gone for a year.” He shrugged. It hadn't felt that long, and he didn't regret his time in Hell.

“They had me on the rack, getting tortured by a demon called Alastair _every_ day. He was morphing me into this.” Dean looked at Sam again. How Sam strained all of his muscles to get out of the restraints. But he wouldn't. Alastair had trained him well. “He was getting me ready for the big fight. The _end game_.”

Sam refused to believe this. Shaking his head, he spat, “Liar! I know my brother! And I know you're not him! Dean is _good_! He's not a demon!” But thinking about his sophomore year, Sam remembered how they were all busy with their own things then. And how he would come home and wonder how much his older brother had changed. He had just assumed that Dean trusted him more and that's why his constant supervision had stopped. It had felt so good then.

And a year later, in his junior year, the old Dean was back. But not entirely. Dean started to show an interest in Sam that was more than brotherly. At the time, he'd even jokingly teased Dean about being possessed. Could it have been true? There was no way! 

He couldn't deal with the fact that Dean might be a demon right now. He needed to change directions. “So, what's the end game, then?” he asked.

“I'm not supposed to talk about it,” Dean answered, stepping closer to Sam. He could feel the younger man's heat radiating off his body. Sammy always had run hot. “All I know is that I'm not going to let it happen, baby brother.” 

At first, Dean had been all for it. Setting Lucifer free and letting him walk the Earth again – it sounded like a great deal of fun. That was until he'd learned that Sammy was the archangel's vessel. There was no way he was letting that happen. Sam was _his_. Dean wasn't even willing to share with Lucifer himself. 

Ruefully, Dean chuckled, biting into his bottom lip as he pushed his hand up Sam's T-shirt. “I didn't have a lot to think about while I was down there, Sammy,” he whispered, leaning in towards Sam. His eyes locked on Sam's newly exposed skin now that his shirt was pushed up, not even bothering to hide the moan that escaped him. 

“Every day, Alastair would come in and he would start his games. It would take _hours_ before he got bored and left me alone. The things he'd do to me, Sammy – it was –” Dean stopped, not finding the right words to make Sam understand. “But all I thought about was you. How I was going to get out of there and come back to you.”

Smiling, Dean pulled back, eyes landing on Sam's once more. “I wasn't blind. I saw the way you looked at me after you hit puberty.” Reaching up, Dean cupped his brother's cheek, thumb stroking along Sam's bottom lip. “I didn't feel it back then. You were my brother. It was wrong – it wasn't normal. Not what Dad would have wanted. But every day he tortured me, and every day I thought about getting home to you.”

There it was again. Dean telling him that their relationship wasn't _normal_. It cut Sam like a knife, much like it had that night almost four years ago. “So, what?” Sam asked, shaking his head. “You thought about getting topside again and starting some _sick_ relationship with me? _Pretending_ to be Dean?! _Acting_ like nothing had ever happened?!” 

He felt sick. He may vomit. All those times he'd been with Dean – allowed Dean to _touch_ him like that – he'd been a _demon_. Of course, it made sense. The only way Dean would ever want a sexual relationship with him was if he was corrupted. “Don't touch me,” he spat, head turning away from Dean's hold on him. 

Although Dean wanted to be able to touch Sam without being chastised, _wherever_ and _whenever_ he wanted, he stepped back. He'd give Sam this little bit of freedom for now. After all, he needed his brother to trust him where Azazel was concerned.

“Why are you so interested in keeping whatever they have planned from happening? Don't you want the demons to win? You know, since you _are_ one, now?!”

Dean had been expecting this reaction from Sam. So he wasn't all that hurt by the fact that his brother wasn't playing nice. “I told you, I'm not talking about that,” Dean reminded his brother. Sam wasn't allowed to know the plan. He just needed to know that Dean was working on saving Sam. He just needed to get his hands on the Colt, and he could get rid of Azazel once and for all. Only problem was, he had no idea where to even start looking for it. That was something that required research – something he wasn't all that great at. But he knew someone who was.

“If I let you go, are you going to play nice, Sammy?” Dean asked, head tilting to the side as he watched his brother. 

“Depends on what your definition of _nice_ is,” Sam said. He knew he was still being kind of bratty, but he was entitled to it. Dean had been lying to him about who he was from the start! “Fine. Just let me go.” 

If he didn't need to get some air earlier, he definitely needed it now. His head was spinning. So much so that it was actually giving him a headache. He'd had sex with a demon. He had allowed a _demon_ to have _every_ part of him. Now he felt violated.

Taking a chance, Dean released Sam, watching as the younger Winchester's knees buckled when he fell to the floor with a grunt. “Things are gonna change, Sammy,” Dean explained. “We need to stop taking these small time jobs. We need to focus on stopping their plan and not wasting our time trying to help every damsel in distress.”

As soon as Sam was stable, he headed towards the door. “Focus on it by yourself,” he ground out. Sam was in no mood to deal with this right now. And if Dean tried to stop him from leaving, Sam was going to kick his ass all the way to next Tuesday. He didn't care that his brother was a demon – he could still dish out a beating, even if it wouldn't phase Dean all that much in his current state. At least it would make Sam feel better.

Without another word, Sam was out of the motel, slamming the door behind himself.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam wasn't sure how far he walked, but he found himself outside of a local bar not too long after leaving the motel. Sighing, Sam pulled the door open and walked inside, figuring that it was better than walking around all night with no real destination. At least here he could drink. If he was lucky, he could drink enough to forget about the last twenty four hours completely – or maybe even the last six years.

About an hour, two empty glasses of whiskey and half of a third later, Sam was definitely a little drunk. And he may have been hitting on the guy sitting next to him, too. Not that he wasn't drinking it up, the guy's hand landing on Sam's thigh as he ordered them another round. 

Before Sam had a chance to push the man away though, Dean was storming over to them. Sam gaped at his brother when the older man hissed a warning to the guy before his eyes bled to black. Needless to say, the guy scrambled away without another look in Sam's direction. “Dean!” he growled when his brother took the man's recently unoccupied seat. “What the hell are you doing? You're acting like a crazy asshole!”

“And you're surprised by this, why, Sammy?” Dean asked his brother. “It's one of the perks of being a demon. I don't care what people think about me.” Reaching up, Dean gripped Sam's chin, forcing him to lock gazes with Dean. “Are you drunk?” he asked, not sure if he should be pissed off or impressed that Sam finally cut loose and had a little bit of fun.

When Dean gripped his chin, Sam quickly jerked his head out of his brother's hands. “Maybe,” he hissed. “What's it to you?” Pushing himself off his seat, Sam squared his shoulders, impressed with himself that he was only swaying a little bit. “I'm a grown man. I can leave the motel and have a few drinks whenever I want to. You're not my babysitter.”

He had to admit, it was kind of sexy that Sam was trying to act all tough in his drunken state. “Yeah?” Dean asked, smirking at Sam as he moved to his feet as well. “It's bad enough that while you were away at college, trying to live your pathetic attempt at a _safe_ life, that you were fucking some chick behind my back. I won't _let you_ come here and hook up with some random drunk who could give you some kind of disease, for all you know.”

Honestly, Sam wouldn't have slept with the guy just because he bought him a few drinks. The flirting he was doing was harmless. But he wasn't going to let Dean push him around like this and tell him what he was allowed to do. Sam was his own person, dammit! “You're not going to _let_ me?” Sam asked, brows raising. “I don't think you have a say in what I do with my body, Dean. I'm my own person.”

Oh, Dean had a say in what Sam did. Whether Sam liked it or not, he was _his_. He grabbed Sam's hoodie and pulled the younger man along after him as he started towards the door. “We're leaving, Sammy,” he explained, not caring that Sam was struggling and fighting him the whole way. Finally, he had him out the the Impala. The passenger door opened on it's own before Dean tossed Sam inside like he weighed nothing. “Stay there,” he growled when Sam tried to get out of the car, eyes bleeding to black in his anger. Snapping the door shut on Sam, Dean climbed behind the wheel and drove them back to the motel.

Without any further incident, Dean had them back at the motel. He dragged Sam into the room without a word. Once they were inside, Dean shoved Sam towards the center of the room. The entire time he tried to keep himself calm. When he was angry, it was harder to control himself. And he had been trying to have an important conversation with Sam before that jackass bolted from this room. “What the hell were you thinking, Sammy?!” he finally asked.

Sam wasn't thinking about anything other than his bed. His head hurt, and he'd had enough of Dean for one night. “Nothing,” he breathed, shaking his head as he staggered towards his bed. “I needed some air. I found the bar. I went in. And I had some drinks. 'Sn't a crime.”

Dean tried, but he just couldn't keep his cool. All Sam was managing to do was piss him off more. “And at what point did you decide letting handsy McGee grope you was a good idea?!” he demanded, moving closer to his brother. His hand shot out and gripped Sam's hoodie before he even had time to comprehend what he was doing. Angrily, he forced Sam to face him, not caring that his actions almost had the younger man falling in his unsteady state. “You're _mine_! No one touches you _but_ me! Do you understand me, Sam?!”

Forgetting almost completely about his headache now that he was angry, Sam shoved Dean away from him. He almost fell again when Dean was no longer there to use as a leaning post, but he managed to keep himself up with some effort. “I am _not_ yours!” he yelled. “You don't _own_ me! You _lied_ to me! Whatever relationship we had before is gone now! You're a _demon_ , Dean! Just the thought of you touching me when you're like this, makes me sick!”

That had hurt. Dean couldn't deny it. But he needed to remain calm. “You didn't have a problem with me touching you before,” he reminded, once again closing the distance between himself and Sam. “You begged for it on more than one occasion, Sammy. I recall one memorable birthday when you rode me so hard, you couldn't walk straight at school the next day, Sammy.”

A deep flush came to Sam's cheeks when Dean reminded him of the night he'd wished Dean a happy birthday. He remembered it like it had been yesterday. Dean had just turned 22, and Sam couldn't think of a better way to celebrate. “I –” Sam started, shaking his head before he squared his shoulders again. “Yeah, well, things are different now. You weren't a demon back then.”

Unable to hold it back, Dean barked out a laugh. “Yes, I was, Sammy!” he argued. He'd been over this. And his brother wasn't stupid, so it was either one of two things – Sam hadn't been listening, or he refused to believe what Dean had been telling him. He took a deep breath and tried again to get this through his brother's thick skull. “For the last time, Sam. Azazel grabbed me when you were 16. While I was down there in Hell, a demon was riding my meat suit for that year! He had Alastair turn me into what I am! When Azazel was done with me, he let me come back topside to get you on his team!” He took a step back to give Sam some room to breathe.

Using the time, Dean allowed his eyes to rake over Sam again, appreciating his brother's well-muscled frame. The kid had really filled out since he went to Stanford. Once his eyes locked on Sam's again, Dean continued, “I've been this way since the night you lost your virginity to me, Sammy. So why does it make a difference now?”

It was getting harder and harder for Sam to argue the fact that Dean was a demon. His story didn't change from earlier, which made it harder for Sam to believe that Dean was lying. But that meant that the _entire_ time they were together, Dean had been a demon. He'd lost his virginity to a _freaking demon_. The realization just tainted every good memory he had of their time together. “I didn't know back then,” Sam answered, feeling ready to puke. 

“So, what?” Dean asked in frustration, barely holding himself back from planting one on Sam. “Just because you're aware of it now, that makes a difference? I'm still me. I'm still the same person you were with five years ago.” He resisted the urge to close the distance between them and haul Sam against his body. Instead, he extended his arm, waiting for Sam to come to him. 

Hearing it out loud like that kind of made Sam feel like he was being an idiot. Then again, two wrongs didn't make a right. Well, it was more than two – Sam wasn't sure how many times they'd had sex over the course of the year and a half they were together. Regardless, he wasn't going to let it happen again. “I'm not coming over there,” Sam argued. “Not right now.”

Anger and hurt mixed together inside him when he was rejected. “Why not?” Dean asked, biting into his bottom lip. “I want you, Sammy. And I've been _very_ patient with you. But it won't last forever. So you need to get over your holier than thou attitude.” Stepping farther away from Sam, Dean headed to his bed, plopping down on the mattress. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I won't force you, Sam. But I guarantee you, I will do whatever is necessary to protect you from them. Whether you like it or not.”

When Dean finally got away from him, Sam allowed himself to fall onto the edge of his bed. Fear gripped him tightly at his brother's words. Sam wasn't sure what this version of his brother meant by protecting him, and that was a little unnerving. But he couldn't give in – he wouldn't. Dean could threaten him all he wanted. Sam wasn't going to let himself stoop to that level. “I'm not afraid of you,” he spat, rolling onto his stomach and stuffing his arms under his pillow.

**~~**

A small smile came to Dean's lips when he saw Sam sprint to the bathroom. The kid had been praying to the porcelain practically all morning. That's what he got for drinking himself into a drunken stupor – Dean felt no sympathy for him. “Sammy!” he called after a few minutes, getting out of the chair he was sitting in and throwing away the _Biggerson's_ bag now that he was finished with his food. “We need to get on the road! This gun isn't going to find itself!”

Sam groaned in frustration when Dean suggested they leave this room. “D'n,” he mumbled. There was no way he could travel in his current state. “Do you want me to hurl in the Impala?” He knew Dean wouldn't want to risk his baby, so he figured that would at least buy him a little bit of time.

Rolling his eyes, Dean grabbed the bottle of water he'd picked up last night while Sam was sleeping. “Here,” he muttered, handing it to his brother. “Drink this. And eat your pancakes. You'll feel better after breakfast.”

Sure enough, once Sam was hydrated again and he had some food in his belly, he felt a little better. His head didn't hurt as badly, and he didn't feel the need to vomit when he leaned over to grab his shoes off the floor so he could put them on. “What are we looking for again? Some kind of gun?” he asked, a deep frown causing his brows to knit. “Guns can't kill demons, Dean. You know this.”

“This one can,” Dean assured Sam, sighing in frustration. “It can kill anything supernatural. Trust me, I've done my research on this.” Grabbing his duffel and slinging it over his shoulder, Dean suggested, “So instead of fighting with me about this, why don't you just get your stuff packed up and get your pretty little ass in the car so we can motor?”

Although Sam didn't miss the comment about his ass, he didn't acknowledge it. The last thing he needed to be doing right now was worrying about Dean trying to get into his pants. Sam had said no, and that was final. “Fine,” he answered, zipping his bag and heading towards the door. “Do you even know where it is?” he asked. “And why do you want it so badly? You still haven't explained that part to me. Isn't killing your own kind frowned upon?”

Honestly, Dean didn't give a crap about what was frowned upon. In his opinion, trying to get Sam to let Lucifer be his bitch was frowned upon – but no one was asking what he thought. “We need it so we can use it to kill Azazel,” Dean explained, yanking the driver's side door open and climbing into the Impala. “I think a hunter has it, and I might just know where he's hiding. Which is why we need to haul ass and get going. And you're bitchy when you don't get enough sleep.”

Sam rolled his eyes when Dean accused him of being bitchy. “You keep talking about this _Azazel_ ,” Sam frowned, taking his spot in the passenger seat next to Dean. “Who is it? And why do you want him dead so badly? Isn't he technically your master, or whatever? Since he made you?”

Now, it was Dean's turn to roll his eyes. “He didn't _make_ me, Sam,” he corrected. “He just threw me in the pit and then pulled me back up. Alastair _made_ me. And no, that doesn't make either one of them my master. I don't belong to anyone.” Shoving the keys into the ignition, Dean continued, “Trust me when I tell you, you want Azazel dead as much as I do – if not more. You know him. Last time I checked, you and John refer to him as _yellow eyes_.”

At the mention of the yellow eyed demon, Sam 's whole body stiffened. That bastard had taken _everything_ from Sam. Oh, he wanted him dead alright. “He did this to you?” Sam asked, eyes swinging over to look at his brother. “And now he wants you to help him make his end game happen? What is it, Dean? You have to tell me.”

“We've already talked about this,” Dean argued, driving out of the motel parking lot and getting on the road. “I'm not going to tell you what he wants. So stop asking.” Leaning over, Dean rolled the knob on his stereo, letting the _AC/DC_ blare through the speakers. When Sam tried to turn off the radio, Dean slapped his hand away, giving him a pointed look. He wasn't in the mood to talk. So they were going to sit here silently and just drive. Eventually, Sam would fall asleep, Dean was sure. He just had to wait it out.

Just as he'd predicted, a few hours later, Sam was softly snoring in the passenger seat, his head rested gently on the window. Dean finally turned off the radio to give Sam some peace and used this time to think. He knew that a hunter had the Colt. But he didn't know the name of the hunter, or anything else. Of course, he could have killed his way through the hunter community until he got some leads, but he didn't think Sam would approve of that. He might leave the killing for later if they didn't find any other leads.

After a few more hours, Dean finally pulled into a motel parking lot. He'd driven enough for one day, and he knew Sam would bitch if he got all cramped up from sleeping in the car. They'd stop here for the night and then continue towards the hunter's house tomorrow. Cutting the engine, Dean slid from behind the wheel, pushing himself closer to his brother. Gently, he pressed his face into the crook of Sam's neck, breathing in Sam's scent. It seemed like the only time Sam wasn't yelling at him anymore was when he was sleeping. Dean didn't like it at all.

As he continued to breathe deeply, Dean felt his body start responding to Sam. It was crazy how the younger man had this hold over him. Sam wasn't even awake, and he was doing these things to Dean. Taking a chance, Dean lightly pressed his hand against the waistband of Sam's jeans, fingers working their way under the hem of his brother's hoodie and T-shirt. He didn't understand why Sam insisted on wearing so many layers – it wasn't even cold outside.

His hand splayed over Sam's abs, a soft groan escaping Dean as he thought about all of the things he wanted to do with this body. Without thinking, Dean latched on to Sam's pulse point with his lips, sucking the skin into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue and teeth. As he continued to taste Sam, he pushed his hand up further, his fingers playing with Sam's nipple, making it harden under his ministrations.

A soft moan escaped Sam as he slowly blinked his eyes open, frowning in confusion. Quickly, he shoved Dean's hand out from under his shirt, pushing his body closer to the passenger door to escape Dean's lips. His hands moved to cover the bulge in his jeans on their own accord. “Dammit, Dean, you need to stop doing that!” he demanded, brows knit in anger as he stared daggers at his brother.

Dean barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes when Sam hurried away from him. “Don't act like you didn't like it,” he smirked. “We're staying here for the night. You comin', or what?” Pushing himself out of the car, Dean smiled once more as Sam followed him. The motel manager was giving them a look that Dean didn't really appreciate when he asked if they wanted two queens or a king. Dean wanted to say king, but Sam beat him to it. 

“Two queens,” Sam rushed, knowing that if Dean had a say, he would have messed that room order up. “We're brothers.” The look the guy was wearing quickly faded before he grabbed them a set of keys and all but threw them into Dean's hands. Without another word, Sam headed back out to the Impala for their stuff. 

Once they had their duffels out of the Impala, Dean unlocked the door and entered. The décor was disgusting. He hated having to stay in these places. If Sam didn't need to sleep, Dean would have just stayed on the road. Another perk of being a demon – no sleep requirement. “Get some sleep,” he ordered, tossing his duffel on the bed closer to the exit door. “I want to get out of here early tomorrow. We can't be burning daylight like we did today.”

Honestly, Sam was worried that if he tried to go to sleep, he'd wake up with Dean in his bed molesting him again. Quickly, he pulled the salt out of his duffel, making a circle around his bed. He ignored Dean when the older man asked what he was doing, finally tossing the salt back in his bag when he was finished. “I'm going to bed,” Sam finally answered. “Like you told me to do.”

Seeing the salt line, Dean frowned deeply. “Really, Sammy?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the younger Winchester as Sam climbed into his bed. “You know I can easily break that, right? All I have to do is open the door and let the air into the room.”

Well, when Dean put it that way, Sam felt less secure than he had a minute ago. “But you won't,” he assured Dean, shaking his head. “I'm asking you not to.” It was hard enough trying to stay away from Dean – Sam didn't need him jumping him while he was sleeping and his guard was down.

Slowly, Dean moved towards the salt line, standing just at the edge and locking his gaze with his little brother. “You're only stalling the inevitable, Sammy,” he promised, his voice hushed – _dangerous_. “You can't keep yourself from me forever. I could see how hard you got in the car with me today. And like I said, you _will_ give me what I want. Or there will be consequences.”

Fear gripped Sam tightly when Dean spoke. “I told you I'm not afraid of you,” he reminded. Sam didn't think Dean would hurt him. He'd never done anything to hurt him in the past. Even if Dean was swearing up and down that he'd been a demon when they got together, all he'd done was protect Sam. And he didn't think his brother was going to change just because he wasn't getting sexual favors. Surely, Dean wouldn't be the one to hurt him _physically_. Emotionally – well, that was another story.

Unable to repress the chuckle that broke from him, Dean bit into his bottom lip, head dipping for a minute. When he looked back up at Sam, his eyes were deep black. “You should be,” he threatened, moving away from the salt line to plop onto his own bed. He'd had enough of Sam's attitude. Tomorrow when Sam reached for that damn salt, it wasn't going to be there.

**~~**

_A man in a two door sedan drove down the street and into his garage, cutting the engine. Suddenly, the garage door started winding down on its own, causing the man to look at it, confusion clear on his features. The doors locked then, trapping him inside the vehicle. He struggled, but he could not open them. As he struggled, the ignition key turned by itself, starting the car back up. Exhaust smoke began to fill the garage._

_Doubling his efforts, the man struggled to turn off the engine, but to no avail. The radio flicked on just as the man was thrown into a coughing fit. “Help!” he called between the coughs. “Somebody help me!” The smoke had gotten thicker and thicker, causing the man to keel over, unconscious._

Sam started awake, eyes darting to Dean where he was sitting on the bed, reading. Not thinking about what he was doing, Sam turned on the light. “We have to go,” were Sam's only words. He got dressed and stuffed his toiletries into his bag. He could hear Dean packing up his own stuff, asking what was going on, but Sam didn't answer. Again he explained, “We have to go. Right now.” With that, Sam grabbed his bag and walked out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean really hated the _special children_. Well, with the exception of Sam, that was. Apparently, Sam was having visions of them. And now, Sam had just informed Dean that he'd been able to move a cabinet so he could open the door when Max locked him in the closet. Why? Because Sam had a _vision_ that Dean shot Max. And he would have too, if Sam hadn't come in there and ruined it. Not that it saved the lunatic anyway – he'd shot himself.

Now, Sam was sitting at the kitchenette table and brooding. It was really cramping Dean's style. He hated it when Sam started going on these tangents. If he had to hear _one more_ thing about Azazel tonight, he was going to lose his shit. Picking up a spoon, Dean turned towards Sam. “Bend this,” he instructed, trying to lighten the mood.

Frustrated, Sam breathed out a sigh. It was just like Dean to try to make light of every situation. “I can't just turn it on and off, Dean,” Sam explained.

“Well how'd you do it?” Dean asked. He didn't know a lot about Azazel's little pride and joys, but he knew a little bit. Each one of them had special abilities brought on by the demon blood in their veins. And when they practiced, they could get stronger. Ingesting demon blood was also a way to make them stronger. Not that any of them knew that yet. With the exception of Sam, all of them were clueless about demons and the supernatural world.

Shaking his head, Sam answered, “I don't know, I can't control it. I just...I saw you throw Max across the room and shoot him in the head, and it just came out of me like a, like a punch. You know, like...a freak adrenaline thing.”

Great, Sam was getting stronger. Dean was going to have to stop that shit before it got too out of hand. “Yeah, well, I'm sure it won't happen again,” he promised his brother.

Dean's announcement worried Sam deeply. How could he be so sure. Sam was scared – there was something wrong with him, and Dean was acting like this was _nothing_. “Yeah, maybe,” he breathed, ducking his head. “Aren't you worried, man? Aren't you worried I could turn into Max or something?” Sam was worried.

He could see that Sam was scared, but Dean just didn't want to deal with this right now. Because then Sam was going to start asking questions about the end game, and Dean didn't think he was ready to know about all of that shit. “Nope,” he finally answered. “No way. You know why?”

Again, Sam shook his head, clearly confused. “No. Why?” he asked.

Quickly, Dean locked gazes with his brother. “'Cause you got one advantage Max didn't have,” he explained. Dean wasn't going to let Azazel get his filthy paws on his brother.

“Dad?” Sam asked, figuring that Dean was talking about how they were raised. “Because Dad's not here, Dean.” Sam hadn't heard from their father in almost five years. He honestly wasn't even sure if John Winchester was dead or alive.

 _John_? Of course it wasn't that useless waste of space. John had abandoned Sam! Dean never had! “No,” he all but growled. “Me.” Smirking, Dean moved closer to his brother, cupping Sam's cheek and pushing Sam's hand away from him when the younger man tried to push him off. “As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you.”

In that moment, Sam had never believed anything more. Dean watched him like a hawk all of the time. He'd saved his ass on multiple occasions throughout their trips hunting, even if he was a demon. Dean had made sure nothing hurt him up to this point. “Thanks,” he breathed, biting into his bottom lip as he ducked his head. “Where are we going now? I want to get out of this town as soon as possible.”

If Sam wanted out of this town, they were leaving this town. “Anywhere but here,” Dean answered, finally pulling away from Sam. Quickly, he packed his duffel, slinging it over his shoulder as he watched Sam do the same. He then left the motel with his brother quick on his heels, firing up the Impala as soon as he could. “I'm starving. Wanna get some food at the next town over?”

Now that Dean mentioned it, Sam was pretty hungry. “Uh, yeah, that's fine,” he mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as he huddled further into the passenger seat. He was incredibly tired, although he'd gotten plenty of sleep the night before. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he'd had some sort of telekinetic episode – maybe it had just drained his energy. But he wasn't going to talk to Dean about it. His brother didn't need to know everything that went on in Sam's life. Not anymore.

**~~**

Holed up in another nondescript motel in another nondescript town, Dean sighed as he closed the newspaper and looked over to his brother on the laptop. Sam was looking for a hunt – Dean would recognize the look on his brother's face any day. But he wasn't interested in hunting. He was looking for the Colt – not trying to save pathetic humans who couldn't handle themselves. 

“Sammy, I'm hungry. Let's go get some grub,” he suggested, pushing himself off of the bed and heading over to the kitchenette table behind Sam.

When Dean spoke, Sam jumped slightly, almost having forgotten that Dean was even in the room. “Uh, yeah, okay,” he mumbled. “We can get food on the road. I think I found a case.” He felt Dean lean in behind him. Sam leaned back to get out of Dean's view, his back hitting Dean's fingers where his hand rested on Sam's chair. His body flushed with heat at the feel of Dean's hand through the thin fabric of his T-shirt. “Ahh, man in Colorado, local man named Daniel Elkins, was found mauled in his home.”

“Elkins. I know that name.” Dean perked up. He kept mumbling the name to himself while fishing through his duffel for John's journal, flipping through the pages. “There,” he mumbled, pushing the book towards Sam, “check it out.”

Confusion welled up inside Sam as he looked up at his brother. “Where'd you get this?” Sam asked. “Dad never goes anywhere without this thing.” Taking a closer look at the page Dean was referring to, Sam's eyes widened. There on the page in John's scrawled handwriting were the words _D Elkins 970-555-0158_. “You think it's the same Elkins?”

Shrugging, Dean ignored Sam's question about how he got the journal. Sam didn't need to be bored with the details. “It's a Colorado area code,” he mumbled. That's where he knew that name. Elkins was a hunter. Not that Dean really cared about a dead hunter, but he wanted to go check the place out anyway. After all, his sources told him that a hunter was in possession of the Colt right now. So it didn't hurt to go check the place out.

Turns out, Dean was right to go looking for this guy. They had to fight off some vampires, but they got the fucking Colt. Things were finally falling into place for him. Now, all he had to do was find Azazel and use this gun on him before he could get his greedy hands on Sam. “Sammy, m'gonna go get us a room. You comin'?” Dean asked, eyes raking over his brother. Sam looked tired. More tired than usual. Maybe when all of this was over, they'd take a break.

Slowly, Sam's eyes blinked open when Dean asked him if he wanted to get the key with him. Part of Sam wanted to go in just to make sure Dean didn't try to get them a room with a king-sized bed, but the other part just didn't care at this point. He was so tired. Shaking his head, Sam closed his eyes again, letting his brother take care of renting the room for the evening.

Although it was very tempting to get a king bed, Dean got them a room with two queens. Once he had the room, he headed back to the Impala, grabbing both his and Sam's duffel bags and making sure Sam was following him to the room before he tossed their stuff on the floor and locked the door. “You okay, Sammy?” Dean asked, watching his brother as he moved towards the bed.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Sam answered, shrugging out of his jacket. “I'm just tired.” Sighing, Sam opened the button and zipper of his jeans, pushing the fabric down his hips before kicking it off when it was pooled around his ankles. His shirt was the next thing to come off, Sam tossing it onto the floor beside his jeans before he climbed under his blankets.

As Sam started undressing, Dean watched his brother's every move. Was he purposely trying to drive Dean insane?! It had been months since Sam actually slept in anything other than his jeans and his hoodies. He'd always take clothes to the bathroom with him when he showered so Dean couldn't sneak a peek either, so this was a nice change. However, it was slightly disturbing. Why was Sam all of a sudden changing his ways? Maybe it was a test? Or Sam was too tired to care? Either way, Dean didn't want to risk it, so he kept his hands to himself for now. 

Dean planted himself on one of the chairs at the table and set to work on cleaning their weapons. Nothing made him feel more at ease than when he was either working on his baby, cleaning his guns, or working on his _Sammy_. Of course, his _Sammy_ was being stubborn as of late, so that hadn't happened much in the last few months. He needed to stop thinking about it. The last thing he needed was to be sporting a stiffy while he was trying to concentrate on their guns. 

He spent most of the early evening and night cleaning their guns, sharpening their knives and two of the machetes, and he even made some more rock salt rounds. Sam was snoring softly in the bed behind him.

Slowly, Dean pushed himself out of the chair he was sitting in, stripping out of his shirt as he moved towards Sam's bed. Dean didn't need to sleep, but that didn't mean he couldn't. And he wasn't above taking the opportunity to sleep with Sam when it presented itself. Losing his jeans, Dean climbed into the bed with Sam, plastering their bodies together so there was no space between the two of them. His arm circled around Sam's waist, pulling Sam impossibly closer as he pressed his face into the crook of his brother's neck, breathing in his scent. Sam stirred slightly, but didn't wake up. Dean smiled.

Closing his eyes, Dean belatedly thought that he should have just gotten that king-sized bed when he ordered the room.

**~~**

The sun shining weakly through the window had Sam blinking his eyes open. As he slowly drug himself from his sleep, Sam noticed that there was someone else in the bed with him. He tried to remember what had happened last night before he fell asleep. All he remembered was finally finding the gun Dean had been looking for, and then they drove to another town and found a room. Sam had been so tired. As far as he remembered, he'd just passed out as soon as they came into the room.

Immediately, Sam knew that Dean was the one in bed with him. And it didn't take him long to realize that Dean's morning wood was poking him in the back. Groaning softly, Sam rolled out of his brother's embrace, falling onto the floor with a loud _thud_. His phone was ringing, and he needed to answer it. Quickly, he flipped the device open, eyes landing on Dean as the older man pushed himself out of the bed as well, stretching his achy muscles. “Hello?” Sam answered, frowning as he listened to the other man on the phone.

While Sam was on the phone, having now moved to sit on the other bed, Dean headed to the kitchen area of the motel and started the coffee. He needed something to make this early morning headache he had go away, and he knew Sam liked to have a cup of Joe before they headed out in the mornings as well. With his back turned to Sam, he couldn't see Sam's expressions, but he could still hear the conversation his brother was having. 

“Dammit,” Sam ground out when he hung up the phone. “That was Caleb.” Turning his attention to Dean, Sam grabbed his jeans and quickly pulled them on. “Jim Murphy is dead. His throat was slashed. He bled out. Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at his place.” Pulling on a T-shirt before he stuffed his arms into his hoodie, Sam grabbed his duffel and started packing up. “Dean, it might be the demon. We need to go. Now.”

Dean frowned when Sam told him they needed to go to some dead hunter's place. “Why?” he asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee once it was done brewing and taking a seat at the table. “He's dead, Sam. There's nothing we can do for him now. And I guarantee if it was Azazel, he wouldn't have stuck around.” Honestly, Dean didn't think Azazel would be wasting his time killing low-level hunters, so it was either completely unrelated, or he had one of his lackeys do it. Either way, they didn't need to get involved.

Anger flashed on Sam's face when Dean acted like it didn't matter that their friend was dead. They'd known Pastor Jim for _years_ , and now he was dead. Probably because of this demon. “Dean, Caleb told me that there are signs of demonic activity all over Salvation, Iowa,” Sam explained, trying to keep his eyes to himself since Dean didn't find it necessary to put clothes on. “Dean, you jackass, wake up! We got the Colt, and Azazel might still be there. Get it now?”

Well, Dean wasn't convinced that the demon would still be there, but Sam seemed to believe it. Sighing, he took another long pull from his coffee mug, slamming it down on the table when he was finished. “Fine, I'm comin',” he mumbled, quickly moving to get dressed and get his stuff packed up.

**~~**

By the time they made it to Iowa, it was almost three in the afternoon. “We should split up,” Sam suggested, pushing the door open as soon as Dean had the Impala in park. “There are two hospitals and a health center in this county. We'll cover more ground if I check out the health center and you hit the hospitals. We need to make a list of all of the children who are going to six months old in the next week. And we're burning daylight.”

 _Great – more special children_. What the hell was Azazel up to now? “Alright,” he mumbled. “Hey Sammy!” he called as his brother headed towards the entrance of the medical center. “Watch your back.” Only when he received the nod from Sam did he pull out of the lot and head towards the hospital.

Sam had spent about an hour at the medical center sifting through birth certificates and documenting every child who had potential to be a target for the demon. He was just heading out of the building, checking through his notebook one last time when a massive headache hit him like a bus. His hand shot to his head as the ache intensified, almost sending him to his knees.

Suddenly, Sam could see the demon standing in a nursery. The vision flashed to a mother looking out the window. He heard a train before the vision flashed back to the demon again. That was all he saw before the vision was over, Sam quickly pulling out a map once he could make his eyes focus again. 

Following his map, Sam later found himself in a park, checking his map once more. As he did, the vision flashed behind his eyes once more for a split second, then it was gone. Once it was over, Sam realized that he was standing right in front of the house from his vision. And the woman who had a featured role was headed straight towards him, pushing her stroller and holding an umbrella.

He didn't waste any time as he moved towards her, offering to hold the stroller for the woman so she could close her umbrella since it was no longer raining. His eyes landed on the baby in the stroller, making small talk with the woman in an attempt to figure out why he was having visions of her all of a sudden.

Turns out, Rosie was six months today, which would explain why Sam was seeing her family. Saying goodbye, Sam turned away only to have his visions hit him once more. 

_The clock in the bedroom stopped, the nursery rhyme that was playing right along with it as the wind swept through the open window. A black figure approached the bed. Monica pushed the door open from the hallway, seeing the figure standing over her daughter's bed._

_“What are you –” she started, only to be cut off as she started to slide up the ceiling. Blood started dripping from her stomach as she fearfully yelled her daughter's name. The room suddenly burst into flame then._

Breaths panting out of him in his pain, Sam quickly pulled his cell phone from his pocket. His fingers moved on instinct as he dialed the familiar phone number. “Dean,” he breathed into the receiver when his brother answered the phone. “I need you to come pick me up. I'm just a few blocks past the train tracks. Hurry.”

Once they were back at the motel room Dean had rented, Sam felt a little better. Sighing, he rubbed at his temples, trying to make the headache he was still feeling go away. “I saw it, Dean,” Sam explained, gladly taking the coffee his brother offered him. “I saw the demon. If we don't go there tonight, the same thing that happened to our family is going to happen to these people. We need to finish this, Dean. We have the Colt – we can waste this bastard once and for all. Before he can hurt anyone else.”

Although Dean didn't like the idea of Sam being so close to Azazel, he knew his brother was right. “Okay, Sammy,” he breathed. “But we play this smart, or we don't play at all, you hear me? No running off all _Rambo_ style and trying to get yourself killed!”

**~~**

They made it in time to save the family, but they didn't get the demon. Sam was fuming. And Dean was the only one around for him to take his anger out on, so Dean was really getting laid into. “If you had just let me go in there, I coulda ended all this,” he griped, giving his brother the best bitch face he could muster at the moment. 

Sometimes, Dean wondered if Sam even used that oversized brain of his half of the time. “Sam, the only thing you would have ended was your life,” he assured the younger man, rolling his eyes when Sam argued with his again. Walking towards the bed, Dean asked, “So what, you're just willing to sacrifice yourself, is that it?” Fucking idiot.

His anger getting the best of him, Sam pushed himself out of his chair, turning on Dean. “Yeah,” he answered without hesitation. “Yeah, you're damn right I am.” This thing had taken _everything_ away from him. Sam was willing to risk everything he had left to get his revenge.

“Well, that's not going to happen,” Dean assured Sam with a shake of his head. “Not as long as I'm around.” Dean's whole life had been about nothing but keeping Sam alive, and making sure Sam was safe. And he'd be damned if he allowed Azazel to get what he wanted. He wasn't taking Sam away from him. 

Unable to hold back the scoff that wanted to escape him, Sam continued to argue. “What the hell are you talking about Dean? We've been searching for this demon our whole lives. It's the only thing we've ever cared about.”

Dean could think of a shit ton of other things he cared about at the moment. But he wasn't going to voice them. The last thing they needed to do was start talking about the end game again. “Sam, I wanna waste him. I do. Okay?” he assured his brother. “But it's not worth dying over.” When Sam asked him to clarify, Dean did. “I mean it. If hunting Azazel means getting yourself killed, then I'll go find him by myself and leave you tied here to this bed where I know you're safe.” The visual alone almost had Dean making nice on his threat.

Again, anger started rising in Sam's chest. “That thing killed Jess,” an enraged Sam replied. “That thing killed mom. That thing dragged you to Hell and turned you into a demon. And you just expect me to let it get away and not do _everything_ I can to kill it?”

And they were back to all of the people Azazel had taken away from Sam. Honestly, Dean didn't understand why it mattered so much. The only person Sam needed was him. And he was right _here_. Sure, he was a demon now, but he was still _Dean_! “You said yourself once, that no matter what we do, they're gone,” Dean frowned, needing to get Sam off of this subject. “And they're never coming back. And I happen to like being a demon. I'm stronger than I've ever been. I don't have to worry about stupid feelings getting in the way of what needs to be done. I'm _better_ this way!”

Without realizing what he was doing in his anger, Sam grabbed Dean by the shirt and shoved him hard against the wall. “Don't you say that!” Sam ordered, getting in Dean's face. “Not you! Not after all this, don't you say that!”

Quickly, Dean shoved Sam off him, glaring at the younger man. “I don't know why it matters to you so much, Sam!” he hissed. “You don't need any of those people. All you need is _me_! And you have me! We'll kill Azazel when the time is right! Until then, you're going to sit back, shut up, and do what _I_ tell you to do! You got it, Sam?!”

Before Sam could argue, Dean's phone started ringing. Pulling the device from his pocket, Dean angrily flipped it open and slammed it against his ear. He saw Sam throwing himself onto his bed, probably still stewing over what happened with Azazel.

“What?!” Dean growled into the phone. When he heard the voice on the other line, he groaned in frustration. “Meg, I thought you were dead after your little seven-story drop.” His teeth ground together when she answered that it had merely hurt her feelings. He was honestly a little surprised that she'd kept her meat suit and didn't just smoke into someone else after that. It would have added to the element of surprise. “What do you want?”

“We know you have the Colt, Grasshopper,” Meg assured him, jumping straight to business. “Word travels fast. So as far as we're concerned, you just declared war. And war has casualties. Like your little brother's friend Jim. And now Caleb.”

Dean signaled for Sam to pay attention and put the phone on speaker. They could hear a man gasping for breath, choking on his own blood before he finally quieted. Sam cocked his head, his eyes squeezing shut. “I'm gonna kill you,” Dean promised, hating that his brother had to deal with all of this shit. Taking the phone off speaker, he continued, “I'm gonna hunt you down and kill you. Slowly.”

A small chuckle escaped Meg when Dean threatened her. “Oh, Grasshopper, don't threaten me. We both know Azazel would kill you if you touched me. So, this is the thing. We're going to keep doing what we're doing. And Sam's friends, anyone who has ever helped him, gave him shelter, anyone he ever loved – they'll all die unless you give us that gun.” She waited for a minute without an answer from the other line before she got angry. “I'm waiting Dean-o. Better answer before the buzzer.”

There was no way Dean was giving up this gun. Not after everything he went through to get it. He didn't give a shit about Sam's little hunter friends. They could all die for all he cared. “Go to Hell,” he answered, ending the call just as quickly as he'd answered it. He then turned his attention to Sam. “Pack your shit. We're leaving.”

**~~**

The demons caught up to them a lot faster than Dean was expecting. It was irritating. He managed to exorcise Meg, but her brother was really starting to piss him off. Currently, he was straddling Sam and beating the shit out of him. That was a _really_ dumb move on that bastard's part. Without hesitation, Dean lifted the Colt, firing off one shot and watching as he fell off of Sam, dead.

Wasting no more time, Dean put the Colt back into his jacket, moving over to Sam. “Sam!” he called, picking his brother up off the ground and checking his injuries. God, Dean wished he could shoot that fucker in the head again. “Sam, come on!” he ordered. He noticed that Sam was looking at the man on the ground, probably worried about the fact that the human that demon was possessing was now dead as well. Dean didn't care – Tom had been hurting Sam, so he needed to die. The meat-suit he was possessing had just been collateral damage. “Come on. We've got to get out of here.”

There was an abandoned cabin not far away that Dean parked the Impala at, quickly getting his brother inside. Sam wasted no time getting the salt lines laid out by every window and door so nothing could get in here and surprise them. His face was a bruised, bloodied, swollen mess. Dean wished he could make it better, but he just didn't have the ability to heal people at will like some of the higher level demons. “How are you?” he finally asked, not missing the way Sam's whole body tensed at the question.

“I'll survive,” Sam promised, turning towards Dean when the salt lines were all finished. “Hey, you don't think we were followed here, do you?” He was sore. And he was tired. And he just wanted to take a break.

It was hard not to see the fear in Sam's eyes when he asked if they'd been followed. “I don't know,” Dean answered honestly. “I don't think so. I mean, we couldn't have found a more out-of-the-way place to hole up.” Slowly, Dean moved closer to Sam, cupping his cheek as he inspected his brother's injuries again. Sam was definitely in no shape to be fending off demons right now.

When Dean touched him, Sam couldn't suppress the hiss of pain that escaped him. “Yeah,” he breathed, his body responding to Dean the way it always did. “Hey, uh...Dean, you, um...you saved my life back there.”

Dean couldn't help but smirk when Sam acknowledged that he'd saved his life. “Yeah, well, I told you I wasn't gonna let anything happen to you,” he reminded. “We should get some ice and put it on this. You're all swollen.”

For a minute, Sam almost forgot that Dean was a demon. He was acting so much like his brother that Sam almost let himself get too close. Blinking in rapid succession, mouth drawn into a scowl, Sam pulled away from Dean, moving to the opposite side of the room. “So...what are we supposed to do now?” he asked, leaning against the table in the middle of the room. “Just wait here until we know it's safe to leave? And then what? Dean, we can't run from this demon forever.”

Suddenly, the wind picked up and the lights began to flicker. Sam looked around the room, a deep frown on his lips. “Dean, what's happening?” he asked. Dean was also looking around suspiciously, so Sam had a feeling his brother wasn't the cause of this.

Before Dean could answer, John Winchester emerged from the hallway. “Hello boys,” he greeted, a wide smile on his face when the brother's raised their weapons. “I've been looking for the two of you for a very long time. It's nice to see you boys haven't completely forgotten your training.”

Sam felt tears spring to his eyes when he saw his father – alive and well – standing right in front of him. “Dad, we've been looking for you,” Sam explained, lowering his weapon. “But every time we thought we were getting close, the trail would go cold. Where the hell have you been?”

Anger bubbled up inside Dean when he saw Sam moving to embrace the older man. “Sam, no!” he yelled, stopping the younger man in his tracks. “That's _not_ Dad!” He kept his eyes and gun locked on the newcomer. With a small nod, he motioned for Sam to back away. “Come over here with me, Sam. _Now_!”

Of course, Sam couldn't just do as he was told. He had to argue, and ask questions, and make everything difficult. “What are you talking about, Dean?” he asked, shaking his head in confusion. “We've been looking for Dad for _months_ , and now you're telling me this isn't him?” Again, Sam shook his head, jaw set. “How can you even be sure of that?”

Without warning, John grabbed Sam around his middle, locking Sam's arms to his sides so he couldn't struggle too much. “Sorry Dean-o,” he apologized, eyes flashing yellow. “I need to borrow your little brother for a spell.” With that, he teleported out of the room, the wind having broken Sam's carefully placed salt lines.

Everything happened so fast that even with his heightened abilities, Dean wasn't able to stop Azazel from taking his brother. “No!” he screamed as he ran towards the demon, only to hit the opposite wall when Azazel disappeared. God dammit, he'd been so focused on checking Sam for injuries that he hadn't even bothered to check the place for unwanted occupants. He growled in frustration as he punched the wall, not caring that he could feel small bones in his hand breaking. “Sam!”


	6. Chapter 6

Sam groaned as he pulled himself back to consciousness. He was lying on the ground in the middle of nowhere. There were a few abandoned buildings lining the street, but other than that nothing. As quickly as he could, Sam pushed himself to his feet, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his cell phone. No reception.

He wasted no time searching the deserted town, but he didn't come up with much. Just a few broken down buildings that were mostly locked from the inside. However, he did find something interesting – more people. People like him with special abilities. There were four of them, not including Sam. Andy Gallagher was the first one he'd found. Then Ava Wilson, followed shortly after by Jake Talley and a girl named Lily. 

So far, Sam had learned that Andy could make people do things just by telling them to do it. Ava was like him – she had visions. Jake had super strength, and Lily could kill people just by touching them. It was a lot harder than he thought to get them all to work together and fall in line, but eventually, he managed. Apparently, all it took was Jake getting attacked by an Acheri for them to believe that they were all in real danger here, and Sam knew what the hell he was doing.

The group continued to search the place, looking for any clue as to where they were. Sam concentrated on a way to contact Dean. He figured Dean would be their best shot at getting out of here. Suddenly, in front of one of the broken down buildings, Sam saw a large bell. “I think I know where we are now,” he assured the group. “Cold Oak, South Dakota. A town so haunted, every single resident fled.” Alarmed, some of the others wanted to separate, or at least leave this town.

Sam fought to convince them that they had a better chance to survive this disaster by sticking together and fighting. He suggested that they all find weapons. If they were up against demons, or ghosts, or whatever else might be in this town, he wanted to be prepared. They made their way towards one of the houses, Sam finding a knife and picking it up. Turning towards Ava, Sam noticed that she was massaging her head. 

“Hey, you all right?” he asked, worry clear in his voice.

“Yeah,” Ava answered, just brushing it off. “I'm just...I don't know, a little dizzy.”

“Are you sure it's not some kind of –” Sam started, only to be cut off.

Ava jutted her jaw, her fist clenched in irritation as she turned on Sam. “What? Some kind of freaky vision thing? No, more like I'd kill for a sandwich. I haven't eaten since...well, who knows? No, don't worry. I'm fine. Except for every single thing that's happening.”

Hearing Andy calling for them, Sam and Ava headed out to meet up with the rest of the group. The other man was so proud of himself that he'd found salt. “That's great, Andy,” Sam praised. “Now, we all can...” His sentence trailed off as he searched the group. Someone was missing. “Where's Lily?”

Everyone started yelling for Lily, but their calls were only answered by a little girl giggling nearby. They quickly jogged outside, instantly finding their missing member. There, at the top of the water tower, Lily was hanging from a noose. She was dead.

“Oh, my God!” Ava panicked. “Okay, that's officially—Sam, she's dead! You said we were chosen for a reason. That is not chosen! That's killed! Okay, we have to get out of here.”

Pain filled Sam's chest when he saw that Lily was dead. He'd only been here for a short time, and already he'd failed at keeping his group safe. “Stop,” he ordered when everyone was trying to make up elaborate plans to get the hell out of dodge. “Lily was trying to leave. The demon's not gonna let us get away that easy. We've gotta gear up for the next attack.”

Clearly, Ava wasn't on board with Sam's plan. “Oh, gear up?” she asked, eyes wide when Sam just answered with a yeah, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Okay, well, I'm not a soldier. I can't do that!”

Needing to get through to Ava, Sam put on his best John Winchester voice as he explained, “Well, if you wanna stay alive, you're gonna have to.” Turning his attention back to the rest of the group, he ordered, “Let's go.”

As Jake moved to get Lily down, Sam started to lead the rest of the group into the house where they could lay salt lines and stay safe. “You know, I was just thinking about how much Dean would help right now,” he mused to Andy. “I'd give my arm for a working phone.”

A wide smile came to Andy's face when he realized something. “You know, you may not need one,” he smiled. “I've never tried it long-distance before, but do you have anything of Dean's on you? Like something he touched?”

Quickly, Sam searched his pockets. “Uh...I've got a receipt,” he answered, holding the paper up to Andy. “Would that work?” Sam watched as Andy concentrated on the paper. Silently, he prayed to whoever – or whatever – was listening that Dean got the message.

Later that night, with the salt lines all laid down, Sam was struggling to stay awake. His eye lids were heavy, and every so often, they would close without Sam's permission. Suddenly, in the corner of the room, Sam spotted the yellow-eyed demon. “Jake!” he yelled, standing from his position. His eyes widened as he stared across the room at the trained soldier. “Behind you!” He frowned in confusion when the other man didn't hear him, glaring at the demon when he greeted him. “I'm dreaming,” Sam finally realized, eyes locked on the demon's when Azazel asked if he'd take a walk.

Outside, Sam continued to glare at the demon, scoffing when he asked if Sam was mad at him. “I'm gonna tear you to shreds, I swear to –” he started, only to have the demon cut him off with a chuckle and some snide comment. “Where's my brother? What did you do to my dad?”

“Quit worrying about Dean,” Azazel ordered. “I'd worry more about yourself. And I didn't touch your dad. He did that all to himself.”

Fear gripped Sam like a vice when Azazel said his father had done something. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “What happened to my father?!”

Turning on Sam now that he realized the younger Winchester wasn't going to let this go, Azazel chuckled. “You mean Dean didn't tell you?” Again, he laughed, head tilted back. “Oh, that's great. Your daddy's with me now. He has been since Dean came topside. You see, I couldn't bring Dean back myself. I had to have someone make a trade – a _deal_. John's life for his son's. Of course, at the time, he didn't know that Dean was a demon, but that's all just details.”

Sam was going to be sick. Their father was in Hell. And Dean had known the whole time?! And he hadn't said anything?! “You sonuvabitch!” Sam spat. “I'm going to kill you.”

Now that Sam was back to making threats, Azazel continued on with their earlier conversation. “I'm trying to help you,” he explained. “That's why we're talking. You're the one I'm rooting for.” When Sam seemed interested in the current conversation again, Azazel continued, “Welcome to the Miss America pageant. Why do you think you're here? This is a competition. Only one of you crazy kids is gonna make it out of here alive.”

Confusion clear on his face, Sam started, “I thought we were supposed to be –”

“Soldiers in a coming war?” Azazel finished for Sam. “That's true. You are. But here's the thing: I don't need soldiers. I need _a soldier_. I just need the one.” A cruel came to his lips when Sam asked why. “Well, I couldn't just come out and say that, could I, Sam? I had to let everyone think they had a fighting chance. But what I need...is a leader.”

Intrigued, Sam asked, “To lead who?” Apparently, Azazel was going to talk about the end game. Sam had been asking Dean about it for weeks, and he hadn't budged. Now, Sam was going to get some information.

The corners of Azazel's mouth quirked up as he continued, “Oh, I've already got my army. Or, I will soon, anyway.” He ignored Sam's interruption. “Honestly, I'm surprised you hadn't guessed. I mean, why do you think so many children flamed out already? Max Miller and Andy's brother, what's-his-name? They weren't strong enough. I'm looking for the best and the brightest of your generation.

Sam was having trouble following along. “My generation?” he asked, trying to soak up as much information as he could while he had the chance. 

Waving him off, Azazel explained, “Well, there's other generations, but let's just worry about yours. That's why I'm here, Sam. I wanna give you the inside track. You're tough. You're smart. You're well-trained, thanks to your daddy. Sam – Sammy – you're my favorite.”

Barely biting back the urge to tell this asshole not to call him Sammy, he ground out instead, “You ruined my life. You killed everyone I love.”

For a second, Sam almost thought he saw remorse in the demon's eyes. “The cost of doing business, I'm afraid,” Azazel explained. “I mean, sweet little Jessica – she just had to die. You were all set to marry that little blonde thing, become a tax lawyer with two kids, a beer gut, and a little McMansion in the suburbs. I needed you sharp, on the road, honing your skills. Your gifts.”

“What about my mom?” Sam asked, disgust and hatred in his voice.

Azazel frowned as he recalled the night in Sam's nursery. “That was bad luck.” He continued when Sam merely repeated his words. “She walked in on us. Wrong place, wrong time.” Now, Sam was being a chatterbox. “It wasn't about her. It was about you. It's always been about you.” The younger Winchester was just so eager for information. “Well...okay. You caught me in a charitable mood. I'll show you.”

With a snap of his fingers, he and Sam were suddenly in Sam's nursery, back on the night Mary died. “Look familiar? It should,” he chuckled. He watched as Sam took in every little detail about that night. “Relax Sam, this is just a hi-def instant replay. Enjoy the show.” His body tensed when Sam screamed at his mother, trying to get her attention. “Shh,” he chastised. He was getting annoyed with the youngest Winchester. Again, Sam tried to get his mother's attention, but nothing. “What did I just tell you, Sam? She can't hear you. This isn't real.”

Sam couldn't do anything but watch the scene unfolding before him. The past yellow-eyed demon sliced into his own wrist with his nail. Blood welled up on the fresh wound and he dripped some of the blood onto baby Sam's mouth. 

“What the hell are you doing to me?” Sam demanded, watching in horror as the demon blood fell on his lips and into his mouth. He felt sick when Azazel cooed that it was better than mother's milk beside him. “Does this mean I have demon blood in me?” he asked, unable to process it all. The demon's chuckles behind him didn't help. “Answer me!”

Just then, Mary rushed into the room and acted like she knew the demon. “She knew you,” Sam stated the obvious, eyes wide. Sam watched in horror as his mother was forced against the wall, slowly moving upwards until she was pinned to the ceiling. “No!” Sam yelled, using all of his strength to stay put. It wouldn't have mattered if he tried to help her anyway – this was just a memory. “No!”

Quickly, Azazel reached up, ready to snap his fingers again. “I don't think you wanna see the rest of this,” he explained with pursed lips, snapping his fingers once more.

Sam jolted awake in the abandoned South Dakota house. Jake was jerking at him, telling him to wake up because Ava was missing. Just fantastic. They headed out the door, leaving Andy behind just in case Ava came back while they were looking. Jake suggested that he'd look in the barn and Sam should check the houses. “All right. Meet back here in ten minutes, okay?”

As soon as he had the okay from Jake, Sam began to walk towards the houses. He didn't find any signs of Ava as he walked around. But just a few minutes into his search, he heard Ava screaming. He gave chase and ran back towards their safe house. He found Ava crying, pointing at Andy's mutilated body.

The moment Ava heard Sam entering the room, she started her story. “Sam! I just found him like this!”

“What happened?” Sam demanded, looking around the room as Ava swore she had no idea what had happened to their friend. “How'd that thing get in? Where were you?” There were so many questions that just weren't adding up here. He listened as Ava explained she'd just been going to get some water. “You shouldn't have gone outside. Ava, we have to stay in here –”

His rant was cut short when he noticed the salt line on the window had been tampered with. “Who did that?” he asked, the pieces all coming together in his head as Ava tried to blame it on Andy. “Andy wouldn't do that,” Sam assured her. “Ava, that line wasn't broken when I left. Ava.”

Ava cracked. In front of Sam's eyes, she transformed from a sobbing, frightened woman to a deranged psycho with twinkling eyes and maniac laughter. “Had you going through, didn't I?” she asked, wiping her eyes. “Yeah. I've been here a long time. And not alone, either. People just keep showing up. Children, like us. Batches of three or four at a time.”

Disgust was clear in Sam's voice as he spat, “You killed them? All of them?” Ava looked pleased with herself when she explained that she was the _heavyweight champ_. “Oh my God,” Sam grimaced, ignoring Ava's retort about God not having much to do with this. “How could you?”

As if it was the most obvious answer in the world, Ava explained, “I had no choice. It's me or them. After a while, it was easy. It was even kind of fun. I just stopped fighting it.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes when Sam asked what she'd stopped fighting. “Who we are, Sam. If you'd just quit your hand-wringing and open yourself up, you have no idea what you can do. The learning curve is so fast, it's crazy, the switches that just flip in your brain.” She breathed out a laugh as she thought back to her beginning days. “I can't believe I started out just having dreams. Do you know what I can do now?”

It didn't take an idiot to realize what Ava was capable of now. “Control demons,” Sam answered, frowning down at Andy's dead body. If he'd been here, this wouldn't have happened.

Smiling, Ava praised, “Ah, you're quick on the draw.” Her hands moved to her head, massaging her temples. “Yeah, I”m sorry, Sam. But, it's over.”

The cloud of smoke returned to the window, Sam getting ready for a fight. However, before it entered, Jake came up behind Ava and twisted her neck, killing her instantly. Once she was dead, the smoke left the window and disappeared. Quickly, Sam ushered Jake out of the house. “I think we can make it out of here now,” he explained. When Jake brought up the demon, Sam quickly quieted him. “No, no, no. Ava was summoning it, controlling it. It shouldn't come back now that she's dead. We gotta go.”

“Not _we_ , Sam,” Jake suddenly argued. “Only one of us is getting out of here. I-I'm sorry.” He could see that Sam was confused, but he wasn't backing down. “I had a vision. That Yellow-Eyed Demon or whatever it was, he talked to me. He told me how it was.” Sam was telling Jake that he shouldn't listen to him, but Jake was scared. He didn't want to die here. “S-Sam, he's not letting us go. Only one. Now, if we don't play along, he'll kill us both. Now, I-I like you, man. I do. But do the math here. What good's it do for both of us to die? Now, I can get out of here. I get close to the demon, I can kill the bastard.”

Sam almost couldn't believe what Jake was saying. Then again, he figured fear made people do stupid things. “You come with me, we can kill him together,” Sam promised. Of course, Jake didn't trust him. He thought he was going to turn on him. “I won't,” Sam assured the other man, but it didn't seem to convince him. “Okay, look.” Slowly, Sam took the knife out of his jeans, showing it to Jake before he tossed it on the ground. “Just come with me, Jake. Don't do this. Don't play into what it wants.”

For a minute, Sam thought he got through to Jake. He'd placed his weapon on the ground and everything. However, in an unfortunate twist of events, Jake turned on Sam. Using his super strength, Jake punched Sam, sending him flying across the field, crashing into the ground. Jake then approached Sam, kicking down the fence separating the two of them.

As Jake approached him, Sam watched the trained soldier's movements. Sam took several deep breaths to get his body moving again before Jake could kill him. Jake set out to kick him, but Sam quickly shot his foot out, catching the other man off guard. The two exchanged blows while Sam was still on the ground for a minute before Sam finally got himself to his feet. The fight continued; neither man could gain the upper hand.

But then Jake got a hit in. His fist hit Sam's right arm and shoulder with a bone-crunching sound. The Winchester couldn't suppress a cry as he fell onto his knees. He didn't stay there long, though. Quickly Sam pushed himself to his feet again. It was clear that he was in a lot of pain. Sam ducked out of the way when Jake threw another punch. Jake's arm went through the wooden railing, keeping him trapped there. Sam saw an opportunity and he took it. He quickly kneed Jake several times before he kicked the soldier to the ground. Now that Jake was winded, Sam grabbed the iron bar Jake had a few moments earlier and knocked the man unconscious.

Approaching the unconscious man, Sam considered landing that killing blow for a moment. He even got as far as to raise his arm, ready to strike. However, Sam just couldn't do it. He wasn't a killer. Tossing the bar to the ground, Sam heard someone calling his name. _Dean_. Dean was here for him. “Dean!” he called out, relief and happiness clear in his voice.

Aching, Sam turned towards the clearing, a small smile on his lips when he saw Dean. Still clutching his arm, and nearly staggering with exhaustion, Sam started moving towards Dean. Rain was pouring down now, making the ground all muddy. Sam's shoes stuck with each step. But he needed to get to Dean, so he kept his eyes on his brother. 

Behind him, Jake suddenly woke up. He grabbed the knife that Sam had been using earlier without hesitation, moving towards Sam. This wasn't over until one of them was dead.

Dean watched in horror as one of those damn special children came up behind Sam with a knife in his hand. “Sam, look out!” he yelled, picking up his pace. He wasn't going to make it. Sam was still too far away. Quickly, Dean lifted his hand, twisting it in the air with determination. He reached Sam just as Jake's head snapped to the side, his lifeless body hitting the ground. Dean's hands gripped his brother's upper arms, pulling Sam away from his would-be killer as he frowned down at the man. 

Now that the threat was over, Dean turned his full attention to Sam. “Sammy, are you okay?” he asked, noticing right off the bat that Sam's shoulder was definitely dislocated, if not worse. He was going to _kill_ Azazel for this. “Let me take a look at you, okay?” 

Sam scrunched up his face when Dean gripped his arms. “Dean,” he breathed, trying to shove Dean off him. Dammit, his shoulder hurt. “Ow, Dean stop, please?” Sam begged, pushing at Dean's hand with his good arm. “My shoulder hurts. Come on, let me go.” When Dean did as he was told, Sam grabbed Dean's jacket with his good arm. “Let's get out of here before something else happens.”

**~~**

Once Dean had Sam's shoulder and arm provisionally patched up, he drove them back to the motel room. He rushed Sam inside, carrying their gear. “Get the salt lines down,” he ordered, looking out the window to make sure they hadn't been followed. Dean wanted the element of surprise when he saw Azazel again. He turned his attention to Sam once he was satisfied that they were safe, watching his brother. He'd almost lost Sam today. If he'd been three seconds later, Sam would have been dead. He hadn't been able to breathe through the whole ordeal.

“Why are you staring at me?” Sam asked, feeling a little self-conscious. He remembered the conversation he'd had with Azazel in his head – every part of it. Sam and Dean had a lot to talk about. But judging by the look on Dean's face, he didn't want to _talk_ to Sam right now.

Without warning, Dean surged forward, closing the distance between himself and Sam as his lips crushed against his brother's. He was careful not to touch Sam's injured arm as he ravaged the younger man's mouth, tongue pushing past Sam's lips and teeth to stroke Sam's own tongue. Gently, he walked Sam back to the bed, using his demon strength to lift Sam off the floor and place him on the bed without bouncing his arm around too much. 

Although Sam knew he should have stopped Dean, he couldn't. Instead, he allowed Dean to kiss him like there was no tomorrow. He didn't even protest when Dean walked them to the bed, or when Dean lifted him off the ground and laid him on the mattress. His breaths were panting out of him by the time the kiss ended. Sam bit into his bottom lip as he watched Dean start to undress. “What-What are you doing?” Sam stuttered out, not sure if he wanted to tell Dean no right now.

Completely ignoring Sam's question, Dean pulled his shirt over his head. He kicked off his boots as he worked the button and zipper of his jeans open. Once he was naked, Dean moved to strip Sam out of his jeans, eyes locked on the younger man, searching for any sign that Sam didn't want this. He hadn't been lying when he told Sam he wasn't going to force him. When he received no protests, Dean climbed onto the bed with Sam, straddling the younger man's hips.

Dean gently pulled Sam's shirt off of him. The moment he had access to Sam's bare chest, his lips moved to circle around one of Sam's nipples, nipping at the hardened bud before he moved to do the same to its twin. A wide smile came to his lips when he felt Sam's hand in his hair, Dean looking up at Sam from under his lashes as he continued to torture Sam's nipples. Pulling back, Dean crushed his lips against Sam's once more, moaning into the kiss. “Tell me to stop if you don't want this,” he breathed against his brother's lips. “You only get one chance. If I keep going, I'm not going to stop.”

Again, Sam contemplated telling Dean to stop. But he just couldn't. His brother had saved his life not four hours ago – how could Sam deny him what he wanted right now? “D-Don't,” Sam whispered, biting into his bottom lip. “Don't stop, Dean.” Who the hell was he kidding, Sam wanted this as much as Dean did. “Please, Dean, don't stop.”

It had been so long since Dean had heard Sam begging him like that. Another wide smile came to his lips as he leaned in, capturing Sam's lips in a kiss once more. “M'not gonna stop,” he promised when he pulled back. Slowly, Dean straddled Sam's chest, careful not to bump Sam's right arm with his knee. His right hand moved to the base of his cock as his left hand tangled in Sam's shaggy locks. “Suck it, Sammy,” he instructed, pulling Sam up towards his dick. “Get it wet for me, baby.”

As soon as Sam's mouth was on his hard length, Dean's head fell back in pleasure. A deep groan escaped him as his hand in Sam's hair tightened, holding on for dear life. “Oh God, Sammy,” he moaned, biting into his bottom lip as he watched Sam work his cock with his mouth. God, it was enough to make him cum right there.

Before he lost it completely, Dean pulled away. He hadn't realized he'd missed having sex with Sam _this_ much until it was dangled in front of him like this. Sam leaned back on his left arm while Dean followed him for another kiss. When the kiss broke, Dean pushed his index and middle fingers inside Sam's mouth, groaning softly as Sam sucked on the digits much like he'd been sucking on Dean's dick just moments before. “God, so good, baby,” Dean breathed. Quickly, Dean pulled his fingers away from Sam's mouth, his right hand gripping Sam's cheeks and forcing his head to the side to expose his long neck to Dean. 

Just as Dean bit down on Sam's neck, he pushed on spit-slick finger inside Sam's hole, using the pain of his teeth to mask any pain Sam may have been feeling from his finger. Slowly, Dean added a second finger after a few minutes, scissoring the digits inside Sam. They hadn't been together in almost five years. The last thing Dean wanted to do was hurt the younger man. “Mine,” he whispered against Sam's neck, tongue sliding along the bite mark he'd left there to ease the sting. 

Sam hissed in a mixture of pleasure and pain as Dean pulled his fingers from him, the younger man's breaths panting out of him. A deep moan escaped him as Dean slowly pushed into him, Sam having forgotten how badly it hurt after not having done it for a while. His left hand came up to grip Dean's shoulder, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises as he breathed through the pain. He knew that once the initial pain stopped, it was going to feel amazing. “Ungh...D'n,” he moaned, biting into his bottom lip when he felt Dean bottom out against him.

“Shhh...m'right here, baby,” Dean whispered, his whole body tense from holding still. He waited for a few minutes before he moved his hips experimentally. He bit into his bottom lip to suppress the moan that tried to escape when Sam responded to him. “Ready, Sammy?” he breathed, waiting for the confirmation from Sam before he started moving.

At first, Dean started slow, pulling out just a little bit before sliding back in. Sam's leg hooked around his thigh as he started moving, giving the younger man more leverage. Dean liked that Sam was so eager, forcing Dean to pick up his pace until he was practically slamming back inside of Sam. The bed rocked with their movements. Sam panted in Dean's ear as he pressed his face into the younger Winchester's neck. Sam's scent was so much more intense here, driving Dean wild with need. The smell of demon blood pumping through Sam's veins, albeit faint as it was, had Dean's lust kicking up a few notches. He slid his tongue over Sam's shoulder before he sucked the skin between his teeth.

With each thrust, Dean was hitting Sam's prostate, causing him to groan softly in pleasure. “D'n,” he mumbled. “Ungh...D, please? M'gonna...Dean,” Sam begged, his hips rocking upwards as Dean pulled back, rubbing his hard shaft against Dean's belly before slamming backwards to meet Dean's hard thrusts. “D'n...Oh my God.”

Dean was close. He could feel his release starting low in his belly as Sam begged him. “Do it, Sammy,” he moaned against Sam's skin. “Cum for me.” As if Sam had been waiting for permission, Dean felt his brother's spunk coat his abdomen. Their bodies were slick with Sam's release. Dean continued to thrust in and out of Sam. His eyes bled to black as he felt his balls draw up moments before he was exploding inside his brother. Dean barely remembered to roll off of Sam and away from his injured arm. He collapsed onto his back on the mattress, completely sated.

Now that Sam could think clearly again, he knew that they needed to talk about this. Azazel had said a lot of things to him when he came to visit him in his dreams, and he needed to hear everything from Dean's perspective. Sure, he was tired and sore as hell, but this couldn't wait. He needed to know how much Dean knew. And Sam needed to hear about this end game that Azazel had planned. Especially now that Sam seemed to be his _last soldier standing_.

While Sam was still deep in thought, Dean rolled onto his side. His hand slid across Sam's stomach as Dean moaned. “Mmm...that was better than I remembered it,” he complimented while rubbing Sam's spunk into Sam's abdomen. “You need to shower. You smell like sex.”

“I know,” Sam mumbled, keeping his eyes locked on the ceiling. It wouldn't hurt to take a shower before they had their little talk. After all, Sam was achy, and as Dean helpfully pointed out, he stunk. Slowly, Sam rolled away from Dean, hissing when his shoulder hit the mattress a little too hard. “M'gonna go shower. When I get out, we have to talk.”

Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes when Sam said they had to talk. Why did his brother always insist on ruining the mood?! Before he could ask any questions, Sam was already in the bathroom, the door closed and locked behind him. Slowly, Dean pushed himself to his feet, glaring at the bed on the other side of the room that was still made. He wasn't going to be sitting there alone all night. No, he was spending the night in the bed with Sam.

While Sam was in the shower, Dean called the nearest pizza joint, figuring they needed to eat. Pizza delivery was quick, and by the time the pizza got there, Sam was out of the shower. Once they had their food, Dean dug in, keeping his eyes on Sam. After they'd polished off almost the whole pie by themselves, Dean knew there wasn't anything else to distract Sam from his talk. “What did you wanna talk about?” he finally asked, leaning back in his chair.


	7. Chapter 7

“Did you know?” Sam asked, cutting right to the chase. He could see that Dean was a little confused by his vague question, so Sam elaborated. “About Dad? When you came to get me from school, did you know?” He studied Dean's features, trying to see if there was any sign that the older man was lying to him. 

Sam's question irked Dean. Apparently Azazel had a little chat with Sam while he was with him. It irritated Dean to think that the demon was trying to get between him and Sam. That was never going to happen. “Yes,” he answered honestly.

Of course he'd known. Dean knew a lot of things these days. “Then why?” Sam asked, jaw ticking as he fought the urge to grind his teeth together. “Why did you come get me acting like Dad was missing, and make me think that there was a chance he was fine?!”

While Dean could understand why Sam was upset, he didn't like the tone in the younger Winchester's voice. “If I'd'a come there and told you that I wanted you to leave with me because it'd been too long since I'd seen you, would you have come with me?” he asked, eyes locked on Sam. 

Sam's answer was written all over his face. 

“Exactly,” he mumbled, leaning back in his chair once more. “You were living your apple pie life, and you weren't thinking twice about me, Sam. It was the only way I could get you to come with me.”

Although Dean had a point, Sam was still pissed. “You shouldn't have lied to me,” Sam argued. “You should've told me the truth. Especially after Jess died! I was already here with you – in the fight, Dean. I had a right to know that our father was dead! Instead of running around on a wild goose chase looking for a ghost!”

Rolling his eyes, Dean shot back, “Yeah, well, it never really came up, Sam. You kept us busy with all of those pointless hunts you made us go on. And then I was looking for the Colt so I can kill that bastard Azazel once and for all! So, sorry that I didn't think bringing up Dad was a good idea. I'm sure you would have blamed me for that, too. Because you weren't exactly thrilled to be spending time with me. Telling you about Dad would have just made it worse!”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest, shooting Dean the best bitch face he could muster. “That brings us to another topic we need to talk about, Dean! What's Azazel's end game?!” He could see that Dean was going to stall, but Sam quickly continued, “I'm the last soldier standing, Dean! He's going to come for me, and I need to be prepared. You can't keep this a secret from me anymore!”

Anger flashed across Dean's face when Sam said he was the last soldier standing. “I told you that you don't have to worry about it!” he hissed. “I'm not gonna let him anywhere near you, Sammy. The next time he comes close, I'm gonna kill him.”

“Like you did the last time he got close to me, Dean?” Sam argued, glaring at the older Winchester. It was a low blow, but at this point, he didn't care. Dean needed to stop keeping secrets from him. Sam was getting really tired of it. If they were going to make this work, and kill the demon, they needed to be on the same page. 

Dean glared at his brother. _Touche, Sam_. “Why do you want to know so badly?” Dean deflected. He didn't want to scare his little brother more than necessary. And Sam didn't need to know about the end game. It was never going to come to that. Dean was going to make sure of it. 

“Because he said he has _plans_ for me, Dean!” Sam yelled, fists coming down on the table. Maybe Dean had been lying and he didn't actually know what the ultimate plan was. After all, it wasn't like the demon was very forthcoming – at least he hadn't been when he talked to Sam. “Look, if you know what he wants from me, then you need to tell me, Dean. Please?”

The _puppy eye_ look Sam was sporting had Dean losing his attitude real quick. “Fine,” he grumped, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table, eyes locked on Sam's. “He wants to use you to open the gates of Hell. That'll release his demon army. Once they're free, he wants you to lead them in breaking the seals. Once 66 of them are broken, it opens the door to Lucifer's cage.” Sighing, Dean gave Sam a minute to process everything he was telling him. “Once Lucifer is out, he's going to need a vessel. _You're_ his vessel, Sam.”

There was no way to miss the look of absolute fear on Sam's face when Dean told him that he was the vessel. “Hey,” he breathed, pushing out of his chair and moving to kneel in front of Sam. “I'm not gonna let that happen. Any of it,” he promised. His hand reached up to cup Sam's cheek, forcing the younger man to look at him. “Do you trust me, Sammy?”

Instead of answering Dean's question, Sam changed the subject. Honestly, he wasn't sure if he trusted Dean. “Did you know that I have demon blood in me?” Chuckling, Sam shook his head, forcing Dean to let him go. “Yeah...Yellow Eyes showed me what happened the night mom died. He came into my nursery and dripped blood into my mouth. Did you know about that?”

“Yeah, I knew about it,” he answered, pushing to his feet. “What's it matter? It doesn't change who you are. It was the first step. You need the demon blood in your body to house Lucifer. And you need _a lot_ more of it, too. But again, that's not gonna happen, so it doesn't matter.”

Sam looked up at Dean incredulously. “Doesn't matter?!” he asked, standing now that Dean was. “It matters to me, Dean! I have _demon_ blood in me!” Scoffing, Sam shook his head. “I mean, if I didn't think I was a freak before, I definitely do now. And that's why I can do what I do – the visions and the psychic abilities – it's all because of _his blood_! It's in me, Dean!”

“Who the hell cares, Sam?!” Dean ground out, squaring his shoulders as he stood to his full height. “In case you've forgotten, _I'm_ a demon! And the only person's opinion about you that should matter is mine, and I don't give a shit that you have demon blood running through your veins. It's not even enough to make a difference!” Sure, demons could tell there was something different about Sam, but if they weren't hip to Azazel's little scheme, no one would actually know Sam had demon blood in him. It wasn't _that_ strong.

Just when Sam had successfully suppressed this little tidbit of information, Dean had to bring it up again. “Yeah, Dean I know you're a demon,” he answered. “I can't forget that, even if I try, okay? But I just found out that this demon forced his blood into my body when I was a _baby_. I've been living my life thinking that I could actually get out and be normal – be _safe_ – and it turns out that no matter what I do, I'll always be a freak.”

Dean couldn't stand the devastated look on Sam's face. His little brother was so hurt by this news, and Dean hated it. “Hey, don't worry about it, Sammy,” Dean whispered, moving closer to his brother. “Look, you've had a long day, okay? Why don't you just get some sleep? You look exhausted.”

There was no doubt Sam was exhausted. Sighing, he nodded, allowing Dean to lead him to the bed. “Dean,” he breathed as the older Winchester helped him into the bed. “I need you to watch out for me.” 

Not really paying much attention to what Sam was saying, Dean threw his brother's legs onto the bed, rolling his eyes when Sam wanted to resist him. “Yeah,” he promised as he struggled with Sam. “I always do.” 

When Dean basically shrugged him off, Sam knew that his brother was actually listening to what he was saying. “No!” he protested, pushing Dean's hands away from him when Dean tried to get him to lay back down. “No, no, no. You have to _watch out_ for me, all right?” Now that he had Dean's attention, Sam pleaded, “And if I ever...turn into something that I'm not...you have to kill me.”

Shaking his head, Dean pushed against Sam's good shoulder harder, getting his brother to lay back down. “Sam,” he mumbled dismissively, not wanting to get into this conversation right now. He didn't know how many times he had to tell Sam that he wasn't going to let anything happen to him before it finally sank in. 

Sam wasn't willing to let this go. “Dean, you have to!” he argued. “Who knows what I might become? Even now, everyone around me dies!” _Mary. Jess. Their father. Countless people they couldn't save._ Everyone around him was in danger, and Sam blamed himself. The demon was after him so he could lead some stupid army and raise Lucifer.

“Yeah, well, I'm not dying, okay?” Dean promised his brother. “And neither are you.” They continued their struggle over Sam laying down or not. Frustrated with his little brother's resistance, Dean ground out, “Come on.” Still, Sam was being difficult. “Sam.”

Now that he was seated on the bed again, Sam locked eyes with his brother, giving him his best puppy eyes. “No, please!” he begged. “Dean, you're the only one who can do it. Promise.” He frowned when Dean ordered him not to ask this of him, but Sam couldn't help it. Dean had proven on so many occasions that he was the only one Sam could count on. The only one Dean could trust – even if he was a demon. “Dean, please. You have to promise me.”

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he released the air, he looked at Sam. Seeing Sam's puppy eyes and hearing his pleas, Dean gave in. “I promise.” Of course, he wasn't going to follow through on that. There was no way in Hell he was killing his brother – he just wasn't capable of it. But it seemed to get Sam to calm down and finally try to get some sleep, so Dean was at least pleased about that.

**~~**

Wyoming – that's where they were headed. Dean wanted to get the jump on Azazel, and this was the way to do it. The demon would never expect him and Sam to come play on his turf. He'd expect Dean to get his brother out of dodge – get him as far away from the Devil's Gate as he possibly could. And that's _exactly_ why Dean was hauling ass to get there now. 

Sam was sitting in the passenger seat looking at the map Dean had given him before they left, an impressed expression on his face. “It's a Devil's Trap,” Sam mumbled, mainly to himself. “A 100-square mile Devil's Trap.”

The things that fascinated Sam really baffled Dean sometimes. “It's brilliant,” he mused, figuring Sam would like his enthusiasm. “Iron lines demons can't cross.” Turning his attention to Sam, Dean reminded, “Which means I can't get in. So when we get there, you cross the lines, and you stay put until that bastard is dead.”

He had to fight back the urge to roll his eyes at Dean. “Yeah, Dean, I know,” Sam promised. “You've told me that like ten times already.” Putting away the map, Sam crossed his arms over his chest, fully focused on Dean now. “Look, I'm not in any big hurry to go up against Azazel, or whatever you call him, anytime soon, all right? We just need to make sure we get it right this time. I mean, the last time we tried to use the gun on him, he vanished before the bullet could make contact.”

Yeah, Dean remembered it like it had been yesterday. “I know,” he muttered. “But this time, he's not going to be ready for us. He's not going to expect us to come to him. He's expecting us to turn tail and run in the opposite direction since you're his new champion, or whatever the hell he calls you.”

A shudder ran through Sam at the mention of him being the winner of the contest. He didn't want to think about that. So many innocent people had died that day – it was a terrible memory that Sam just wanted to block out. “Okay,” Sam whispered. “You only have one bullet left. Make it count, Dean.”

By the time they got to the Calvary Cemetery, it was dark. Thunder clapped in the air. The faint smell of salt and ozone was heavy in the air. Wind kicked up dead leaves and grass around them – a storm was coming. 

Dean could feel the energy coming off the Devil's Gate as soon as he got close to the iron lines. All of those damned souls beating at the doors trying to get out – it was enough to make his skin crawl. Lilith was in there – she was chosen to be the last seal to break by Sam's hands, unleashing Lucifer onto the world. The last thing they needed was for her to get out of her box.

Thunder cracked behind them again, and Dean could feel the presence of Azazel close by. Quickly, he shoved Sam across the lines as he turned, coming face-to-face with glowing yellow eyes. He raised the Colt without hesitation, ready to fire off a shot. However, before he could pull the trigger, the Colt was ripped from his hands, landing in Azazel's open palm.

A malicious smirk came to Azazel's lips when the Colt was finally in his possession. “Boys shouldn't play with Daddy's guns,” he chastised, throwing Dean into the air with his mind before he turned his attention to Sam. Extending his arm, Azazel tossed Sam into a nearby tree. “I'll get to you in a minute, champ,” he beamed. “But I'm proud of you—I knew you had it in you!”

Just as Dean was struggling to get up, Azazel turned on him. “Dean, I have to admit, I'm impressed with you. It's not every day one of my own goes against my wishes and tries to sabotage my plans.” Smiling, he pinned Dean to the ground with the power of his mind, not wanting the younger man to go anywhere. “Then again, I should have known your _obsession_ with Sam would have been twisted into something dark while you were on the rack.”

Glaring at Azazel, Dean ground out, “What? Did you think I was just going to let you use Sam to bring Lucifer topside so he could ride him?” Sitting up as best as he could with Azazel pinning him, Dean promised, “I'll _never_ let that bastard ride my brother.” Chuckling, Dean added, “I'm the only one allowed to do that.”

“Well, it's not an ideal situation, I'll give that to you,” Azazel mused. “But it's what's going to happen. With you gone, Sam will have no choice but to fall in line where he belongs.” Lifting the Colt, Azazel cocked it. “This is the way it's supposed to be, Dean. And there's _nothing_ you can do to stop me.” Azazel almost looked sad as he tilted his head, giving Dean one last glance before he breathed, “Goodbye, Dean-o.”

While Azazel was focused on Dean, he wasn't paying attention to Sam. The younger Winchester used the opportunity to concentrate his own powers to break free of Azazel's hold. It worked enough to allow Sam to inch his way towards the edge of the Devil's Trap, and the two demons just on the other side. He had no idea what he was going to do, but he knew that he needed to get Azazel's attention away from his brother. Now that the Colt was no longer in Dean's possession, Sam could only imagine what Azazel was planning on doing with it.

Seeing the demon cock the gun and aim it at Dean, Sam felt fear grip him tightly. All of the air rushed out of his lungs. It felt like something had reached inside him and wrapped its cold, dead hands around his lungs. A cold sweat broke out over his whole body, a shiver running down Sam's spine. 

His adrenaline kicked up just like it had when he'd been locked in that closet at Max Miller's house, and Sam knew he had to act. “Dean!” he yelled, distracting Azazel and buying them a few seconds. Sam felt power course through his body. He shot his arm out towards Azazel. “No!” he screamed.

Azazel went flying in the opposite direction, his body barreling into a tree _hard_. Azazel's body fell into a heap on the ground, blood trickling from the fresh wound on his forehead. The Colt was expelled from his hands when he fell. 

Dean scrambled towards the gun that landed between the three. He grabbed it just as Azazel was getting back up. The demon's wide eyes were on Sam, too surprised at the turn of events to pay attention to Dean. Dean, however, did pay attention and took aim. Without hesitation, Dean pulled the trigger, the bullet hitting its mark with ease as Dean's eyes bled to black with rage.

Turning his attention back to Dean, Azazel frowned at the younger man. His eyes lowered to stare at the hole in his heart as his body convulsed once, his skeleton flashing orange under his skin. Five more convulsions in quick succession, that same orange glow flashing before Azazel fell to the ground, dead. Black smoke bled from the wound as Azazel's vessel's eyes changed from yellow back to the pale blue of the human he'd been possessing.

As soon as Azazel was dead, Sam ran to Dean, throwing himself into his brother's arms. He had no idea how he'd been able to throw Azazel like that, but he wasn't worried about it right now. Dean was alive, Sam was alive, and the demon was dead – that was all that mattered at the moment.

Dean grunted softly when Sam crashed into him, arms instantly wrapping around the younger man. His brows knit in confusion as he stared at Azazel's dead body. “Sammy, how'd you do that?” he asked. There were only a few things stronger than Azazel that Dean knew of, and Sam shouldn't have been one of them.

Frowning, Sam shook his head, eyes following Dean's to the demon. “I don't know,” he admitted. “I just..saw him with the Colt pointed at you and I just wanted to get him away from you. I just threw my hand out, and he went flying. I wasn't even trying to do anything.” Biting into his bottom lip, Sam pressed his face into Dean's neck, just thankful that they were both still standing.

Although it was _very_ disturbing that Sam had been able to toss Azazel around like he was a ragdoll, Dean let it go. Now that he was dead, Sam's psychic abilities should be gone with him. Until he got a taste of demon blood again, which Dean wasn't going to let happen. Chuckling, Dean pressed his lips to Sam's cheek. “See baby,” he started, smiling when Sam's hazel eyes locked with his jade green orbs. “I told you I wasn't gonna let anything happen to you.”

Unable to hold back the chuckle that escaped him, Sam pulled back from the hug. “Come on,” he ordered. “Let's get this cleaned up and get outta here.” Without another word, Sam headed towards the Impala. They needed shovels to bury the body before anyone found him. “Dean,” he called over his shoulder when he realized that his brother wasn't following him. “Are you coming?”

Taking one last chance to look at Azazel's body, Dean smiled, head snapping up when he heard Sam call his name. “Yeah baby, I'm comin'!” he called back, jogging towards the Impala after his brother. 

They got the body buried in record time with both of them doing the digging, and they were back in their car by the end of the hour. “So...what now, Sammy?” Dean asked, arm slung over the bench seat so his fingers were just brushing against Sam's arm.

Honestly, Sam hadn't thought that far ahead yet. His bottom lip protruded into a pout as he gave a small shrug. “Bobby text me a few days ago about some demonic omens in Oak Park, Illinois,” Sam explained. “Maybe we should go check it out.”

Demonic omens. Another case. Dean was not amused. But Sam seemed content of jumping back on the horse and hunting, so who was Dean to judge. As long as he was with Sam, he couldn't really complain. “Fine,” he muttered, fingers wrapping around the keys in the ignition moments before his baby roared to life. “But first, you're going to get me some pie.”


End file.
